Heather Graham - The Betrayed

“Moneywise, yeah, I should be okay. I’m good at my job. The problem is I’m a shoe hog. Jeez, I’d have some financial backup if I didn’t go crazy buying shoes. It’s from all those years of watching Sex and the City. I should’ve been watching The A-Team or something.”

“Hey, we can always put some shoes up on eBay!” Mo laughed. “Anyway, I do have some savings.”

“Yeah...but that’s your money.”

“The police are being cautious, that’s all. I’m sure this will be over soon.”

“I’m feeling...trapped!”

Mo rolled her eyes. “You’ve only been in the house fifteen minutes!”

“Yeah, I know. You got any movies? Oh, wait, you’re working. Okay, you keep working. But I’d love to see a movie. Nothing scary or creepy, though.”

Mo went to her computer and saved her work. “We’ll find a comedy we feel like watching. The remote’s on the table by the TV. Pick out something on Netflix. I’ve done enough work for the day.”

“Really? I don’t want to mess you up, too. One of us needs an income!”

“It’s fine. I finished the Valentine’s card I was working on.”

“Great! I locked the door, didn’t I?”

“I’ll check,” Mo promised.

Grace headed to the family room in back, where the TV was, while Mo walked through the house to the front door, Rollo trotting behind her. She opened the door and carefully peered out.

Her house really was isolated.

Usually that seemed like a good thing, something she valued and enjoyed. But now...

The sky was overcast today. There was a breeze, and she could see the trees moving in the strange gray light. From her doorway, it was easy to imagine the past, the eerie land where darkness fell quickly over the groves of trees, and shadows chased each other beneath the moon.

There could be anything out there in those trees, she thought.

She closed and locked the door. It was late afternoon, and darkness would come soon.

* * *

Aidan knew that the convention center had been searched from top to bottom. Each of the thousands of attendees had been interviewed, a process that went on through the night, after which they were finally allowed to leave.

Taylor Branch, Richard Highsmith’s right-hand man, was staying at an elegant new hotel recently built by one of the major chains. A police officer was on duty outside his room when Aidan and the detectives arrived. The officer had a chair for his vigil but had been standing near the elevator. He recognized Van Camp and Voorhaven and nodded as he was introduced to Aidan, then indicated that they could move on down the hall.

Taylor Branch greeted them in his suite’s sitting room, wearing a long white robe. His hair was damp and he appeared to have showered. He was a young man—maybe thirty-five—although he looked older at the moment.

Lee Van Camp performed the introductions. Branch didn’t protest their arrival; he glanced at Aidan with red-rimmed eyes and asked, “How? We were backstage. Richard and I were in the greenroom together. I left when Ms. Macaby, the convention hall manager, came to see what he’d like to eat. When I returned, there was a cup of tea and a plate of cheese and crackers on the table in front of the sofa—but no Richard.”

“Why did you leave?” Aidan asked.

“I had to consult with security. There’s a laugh for you,” Branch said bitterly. “Well, sit down, please. I’m so tired and I’ve gone over it all so many times, in my own mind, as well as for others, I can envision practically every minute.”

They took seats. “There’s coffee on the counter there. And a bottle of whiskey,” he told them.

“Thanks,” Voorhaven said. “I’ll have some coffee. Anyone else?”

Aidan looked over at him and nodded. “Thanks. Coffee would be good.” The newbie detective was making himself comfortable and therefore making Taylor Branch comfortable. Which was smart.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Aidan said. “When did you leave New York?”

“Let’s see...we left the city at around five in the morning yesterday. We checked in here. They were ready for our early arrival. Everyone loved Richard, even when they opposed him politically. Well, almost everyone,” he added glumly. “When I heard he’d been found—and how...”

His voice trailed off.

“So, you checked in here around seven or eight?” Aidan asked.

“I guess it was around nine when we got into our rooms.” Branch cleared his throat. “Richard was next door to me. His things are still there. Connecting door between these suites,” he noted, pointing.

“We’ll take a look before we leave,” Aidan assured him. “You have a key to the hallway door?”

“Ah, yeah. On the wet bar,” Branch said.

Van Camp procured the key.

“Go on, please,” Aidan encouraged Branch.

“You know, I’ve gone through all this so many times.”

“Yes, and I’m grateful you’re going through it again for me,” Aidan said.

Branch took a deep breath and then resumed. “We’d stopped for coffee. That always makes me nervous, but we were traveling with private security. Richard hired a team himself. He said too many people use public money for things like that. And, of course, he isn’t official yet, so...”

“So you stopped for coffee. How many in the security detail?” Aidan asked.

“Three men. The company is called Shields,” Branch told him. “And, of course, the men are still here. Richard called them Muscles, Mischief and Magic. Muscles is Cory Stile and you’ll see why they call him that. Mischief is the youngest of the guys and a flirt—real name Rob Little. And Magic is Ben Wilkes. He’s a retired SEAL. Knows his stuff and can get you in and out of anywhere in the blink of an eye. They’re good. They’ve been with us about a year—ever since the polls started saying Richard would win the mayoral race.”

“They’re in the hotel?” Aidan asked.

“Across the hall,” Branch replied.

“So, you left this hotel when?” Aidan nodded a thanks to Voorhaven as he handed him a cup of coffee. It was hot and black, and not bad for hotel-room coffee.

But then, in this kind of suite, Aidan figured it was probably gourmet coffee.

“We had lunch at a restaurant in Tarrytown. Richard was wonderful, as usual, meeting people, speaking with them, shaking hands. Then we went on to the center. Cops were already there. The place had been thoroughly searched and everything seemed fine. We met with the audio-visual people, then headed back to the greenroom so Richard could get in some downtime before speaking. He and I were in there, and Jilli had just left. She works on schedules and that kind of thing.

“A center employee, Bari Macaby, the manager I mentioned earlier, came to ask if we wanted anything. She went to order Richard’s snacks, and I went out to speak with Muscles, Mischief and Magic as well as the local cops. We were checking the metal detectors. When I came back in...Richard was gone. I hunted down Jilli first. She was onstage working with the AV people. She hadn’t seen Richard. I found Bari Macaby in the auditorium, where she’d been watching Jilli doing a sound check for the night. I panicked. I let everyone know I couldn’t find Richard. Then we tore the place apart.”

“You called his cell first thing, I assume?” Voorhaven asked.

“Of course. He didn’t answer.”

“Did the cell phone show up?” Aidan asked next.

“Not that I know of,” Branch replied. He looked at Van Camp, who shook his head.

“We’re going to need your help. We’ll need you to hang around for a few days,” Aidan told him.

Branch smiled grimly. “I wasn’t going anywhere. Helping Richard was my life. I swear, he was the best thing since Lincoln, to me, anyway. He had integrity and vision—he was an independent who was going to make it.” He sighed. “I’ll be here. I have to decide what to do with my life now. I figure I’m a suspect. But I was at the center when he disappeared. You can ask the security guys, Jilli, Bari... I didn’t leave until this morning, when I heard that Richard had been found.”