Then There Were None (Matt Foley/Sara Bradford series Book 2) Page 20

  “Where’s the jacket, Ian?”

  “I left it in the entryway closet at Grayson Manor.” The missionary handed over his luggage. “Be my guest. If you find it there, I’ll eat it.”

  Davis took the bag and pulled the contents out one by one. No windbreaker. “Is this all your luggage?”

  “Yes,” Ian replied.

  Turner gave the missionary a cold glare. “He could have ditched it.”

  “He would have no reason to,” Matt said. “He couldn’t know Emily saw it.”

  He studied Ian’s face. “When was the last time you saw the jacket.”

  “I’ve worn it only once since I’ve been in the States. It should still be at home.”

  “Can you prove where you were the last two days?” Matt pointed Ian to one of the seats then sat beside him.

  Ian’s jaw set in a stubborn grimace. “Of course I can, but I don’t think I should have to. Why on God’s green earth would I want to kidnap anyone? Surely you must see that makes absolutely no sense. For the love of God, Matt, that was my sister and her family.”

  “It’s my job to follow up on all leads, whether I like it or not. The fact remains, Emily saw a man wearing your windbreaker.” Matt leaned forward and held out his hand. “I’d like to see your ticket.”

  Ian took his flight envelope from his inside pocket and slapped it into Matt’s hand. The missionary stood and walked a few paces then turned back. “Emily believes I would do that?”

  After scanning the flight receipt, Matt passed it to Davis. “Looks like that puts you in the clear. But we’ll call the mission to make sure you never left. Try not to take it personally, Ian.”

  Davis repacked the bag and handed it to Ian. “Follow us to the station. We won’t keep you long.”

  Twin Falls Police Station

  Twin Falls, Texas

  Matt deposited Ian at the police station telling him to make himself comfortable. Matt didn’t want Ian near Emily until they could confirm his whereabouts for the last two days. And he didn’t want him talking to Alexander.

  Matt returned to his office while Turner and Davis checked Ian’s alibi with the pastor in Mexico.

  It took less than thirty minutes to confirm Ian had been there the entire time since he left Twin Falls. In broken English, the pastor told Davis Ian had spent his time gathering materials for the repairs and swinging a hammer alongside church members.

  Matt buzzed the desk sergeant. “Chuck, send Ian Hamilton back to my office.”

  Less than a minute later, Ian stood in the doorway, a defiant clench in his jaw and anger blazing in his eyes.

  “Come in, Ian. Have a seat and cool down. I make no apologies for doing my job. Often people’s lives depend on my diligence.” He waited until the man was seated before he continued. “I’m glad your alibi checked out.”

  Ian slumped in the chair, closed his eyes, and rested his head on the wall behind him. He said nothing.

  “I’ll call Emily, make sure she knows it wasn’t you.”

  The missionary sat upright and opened his eyes filled with a sea of sorrow. “I’ve led a pretty privileged life, Matt, with the prestige that came with my title, as well as that of being a minister. Never has anyone thought so lowly of me that I could be responsible for the death of my sister and her family. And the hurt is deeper knowing people I care about and respect believed it. You caught me off guard.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. You do realize that since it wasn’t you, it only leaves one person who could have worn your windbreaker?”

  “You mean, Alexander?”

  “Yes. We must get Emily out of that house. She isn’t safe there. I’ve been saying that for weeks, but she seems determined to stay. Get her out of there, Ian. Even if you have to carry her kicking and screaming.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” Ian shook his head. “I don’t see how the boy I grew up with could have changed enough to be responsible for killing his parents and siblings. Unless there is some mental deficiency involved. Don’t worry about Emily. I’ll see that she’s safe. I won’t let her out of my sight.”

  “I can understand your reluctance to think Alexander is responsible,” Matt said. “I never knew him and even I can’t fathom any reason for his actions. Money seems pretty lame since the man is wealthy in his own right. Nevertheless, when you get home, find that jacket. Perhaps we can find evidence Alexander has worn it. Davis will follow you. We have a few questions for Perkins about Alexander’s whereabouts the last two days.”

  The missionary’s steps were slow, his head down as he left Matt’s office. Too bad. The man had lost most of his family. Now he seemed destined to lose another one.

  Matt picked up the phone and called the DA. His secretary put Matt right through. “Gabe, I need to bring you up to speed on the Grayson case.”

  “I’m all ears. I tried to get in touch with you but heard you were running down the Sara Bradford kidnapper. What happened with that?”

  “She and Emily are safe.” Matt filled him in then outlined his suspicions of Alexander Grayson as the shooter in the multiple murders.

  “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You have a man in custody that had motive, opportunity and the murder weapon in his possession, but you think the son did it based on a windbreaker?”

  “Put that way, it sounds pretty lame. But that doesn’t change my conviction that Alexander Grayson is guilty.”

  “That’s the way your boss and our illustrious mayor will look at it. I don’t have to tell you that theories and proof are two totally different animals. So how do we prove it?”

  “I’m pulling him in for questioning. See what shakes out. If we can’t charge him with the Grayson murders, we can get him for kidnapping and attempted murder. All I have to do is convince a kidnapper to cross the border and testify.”

  “Easy peasy, right?”

  “Not so much. I may need a little heavenly intervention on this one.”

  As soon as Matt disconnected, his phone buzzed. “We have Alexander Grayson in interrogation room one if you want to listen in,” Miles Davis said.

  “On my way.” Minutes later Matt slipped into the viewing room, switched on the closed circuit TV and punched up the volume.

  Alexander Grayson sat across the table from Davis and Turner, coolly examining his Rolex.

  Turner read him his rights. “Do you waive the right to have an attorney present?”

  “For the moment.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?” Davis asked.

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  Davis removed his notebook from the inside pocket of his blue blazer, and took over the interrogation. “Where were you this weekend?”

  “In Dallas. At the Sheraton Hotel, executive suite.”

  “Why?”

  “I needed to get away. Things were crazy at the manor. My family had been murdered, Emily was missing. I wanted some time—”

  A knock sounded on the door and attorney Harold Golden stepped into the room. Matt and Golden had a history. They’d faced off last year when he tried to intervene in the case against Sara for her husband’s murder. “Gentlemen, this interview is concluded. Release my client or charge him with something.”

  Golden looked up at the camera in the corner. “Chief Foley, I assume you’re somewhere watching. I’ve heard what a cracker-jack investigative unit you have here. So I’m wondering why, when you have a man in jail for the murder of my client’s family, you’ve pulled him in for questioning? If you continue to bother Mr. Grayson, I’ll sue you for harassment.”

  Davis shot Golden a challenging glance. “Actually, we pulled him in to ask about the Bradford/Castleton kidnapping. And we have an eyewitness.”

  ***

  Matt and the two detectives gathered in the break room after Golden escorted his client from the building.

  “How did Golden get here so fast?”

  Matt filled a cup and took a seat in a booth next to the window. “Grayson probably called
him before he came in. Must have put Golden on retainer, just in case. Check out Grayson’s story at the Sheraton, although I think he’s too smart to tell a lie we could catch him in.”

  Turner doctored her coffee and sat across from Matt. “Yeah, and since our eyewitness is a ghost in the wind right now, we need more proof. Are you saying you think Grayson’s telling the truth?”

  “To a point. I think he checked in and left, didn’t stay in the hotel suite.”

  Davis nodded. “My thoughts exactly. We’ll check it out anyway. Maybe he slipped up somewhere.”

  Matt stood and tossed his empty cup in the trash. “Good. I have another angle. I’m going to see if there is any way I can contact Chance Crawford. He’s a disreputable witness, but at this point, I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  Back in his office, Matt dialed Allen Forbes’ number. “Matt Foley. Have you folks found Crawford?”

  “We tracked him to a convent after he was shot. They patched him up, and he left. We’ve got a line on him, but he’s not in custody yet.”

  “When you find him, give me a shout. He can identify the guy who shot him. I have a suspect I’d like to put in a lineup. See if Crawford picks him out. If he’s agreeable, I think I can get the kidnapping charges dropped.”

  “You got it. You’re not the only one who wants to talk to him. Some high profile people in Washington also want a shot at him.”

  “Why would they be interested in a kidnapper?”

  “Don’t know, and I’m not allowed to ask. But my guess is one of the other alphabet agencies want to recruit him. We’ve got major problems with our neighbor to the south. Crawford speaks fluent Spanish, and he knows the country. Plus he’s got a bad guy rep. Given the fact he was instrumental in rescuing the women, it wouldn’t be the first time a crime has been pardoned. Did I ever tell you Washington is a strange town?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Grayson Manor

  Twin Falls, Texas

  It was late when Ian reached home. Perkins met him at the door and told him Emily had eaten an early dinner and turned in for the night. He left Perkins in the vestibule to answer Detective Davis’ questions. He made his way upstairs to Emily’s bedroom and silently opened the door. Moonlight reflected on her face, and her breathing looked even and regular. In the morning, he would take her wherever she wanted to go, anywhere away from Grayson Manor.

  A strong cup of hot tea became a top priority, and he made his way to the kitchen where Molly kept a pot on the hob for late night prowlers. He filled a large ceramic mug, added cream and sugar, and grabbed a couple of biscuits from the tin the cook kept filled.

  Perkins stepped into the kitchen. “May I get you anything, sir? A sandwich perhaps.”

  “No need to bother, Perkins. I found everything I need. I’m going to the library to study for a while before I go to bed.” He paused in the doorway. “Is Alexander at home?”

  “No, sir. He left earlier and said he wouldn’t be back tonight. If he returns in the morning, shall I tell him you want to see him?”

  “No, I was just curious. Goodnight, Perkins.”

  The last person Ian wanted to see was Alexander. Tomorrow, Ian would move himself and Emily into a hotel, hopefully without a confrontation with his nephew. He would prefer to move her tonight, but she needed the rest after all she’d been through. If Matt Foley was right, they couldn’t leave Grayson Manor soon enough.

  Matt Foley’s Home

  Twin Falls, Texas

  Matt left the station at seven and headed home. Since Sara and Emily went missing he hadn’t had more than three hours sleep per night. As expected, the house was empty except for Rowdy.

  Rowdy danced around his feet as he trudged to the master bedroom for a hot shower. He fished a tiny doggie treat from a bowl on the dresser and threw it to the excited mutt who caught it in mid-air. “Good boy.”

  Matt stepped into the large shower and turned on the jets enjoying the warmth, letting the steam build up and expunge the stress from his body. Afterwards, he dressed in sweats, filled a mug with hot cider, and went out onto the deck.

  The night was clear and cold, the sky filled with a million stars that added brightness without the need of outdoor lighting. He sat in one of the chairs sipping the cider, the Yorkie laying contentedly in his lap.

  Matt tossed Rowdy’s tennis ball into the yard and watched as he bounded across the lawn to retrieve it. Playtime ended, and Matt headed to bed, the dog at his side.

  The phone rang just as he closed his eyes. He debated whether to answer it, but succumbed to curiosity.

  “Chief Foley?” A male voice he didn’t recognize asked. Matt’s first thought was how did a stranger get his home number?

  “Yes, who are you, and how did you get this number.”

  “Chance Crawford. Agent Forbes gave me your number. Said you wanted to talk to me. How can I help you?”

  Matt was stunned into silence.

  “Chief Foley, are you there?”

  “Yes, I didn’t expect to hear from you directly.” He paused, deciding where to go with this conversation. “Where are you?”

  Crawford hesitated before he answered. “Afraid I can’t tell you.”

  So Forbes had guessed right. “The FBI cut you loose?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” He cleared his throat. “Look, Chief, I didn’t call to talk about me. I called because Forbes said you wanted me to help identify the guy who hired me. How do we work that?”

  Matt felt a surge of anger at the man’s impertinence. “Look, Crawford, my first inclination is to take your head off for what you put those women through. I’m giving you a pass because you helped Sara and Emily escape. But you’re correct. I do need you to pick the killer from a photo lineup. I’m assuming you don’t want to come in to do that?”

  “Correct.”

  “Will Forbes know how to contact you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow, I’ll send him six numbered photos of suspects. All you have to do is let Forbes know if one of them is the guy who shot you.”

  “That’ll work.” Crawford was silent for a moment as he seemed to search for the right words. “Look, I don’t blame you for being angry. Forbes told me Sara and Emily are both okay, and that’s no thanks to me. Just know this. If you don’t take that guy down, I will.”

  Compassion he didn’t expect to feel came over Matt. “You identify him, and I’ll handle it. That’s my job.” Matt hesitated. “And Crawford, I guess we’re fortunate he hired you. Another assassin would have killed them both at the stop sign.”

  Twin Falls Police Station

  Twin Falls, Texas

  Lucy folded back the flaps on the cardboard box and began to sort the material into individual piles on her desk. What she hoped to find, she didn’t know.

  Trevor Nelson’s father’s memorabilia lay in an array of papers and books before her. The deed to his home when he’d paid off the mortgage, bank statements, insurance forms, family pictures, a baby book and an old scrapbook.

  Lucy gave each piece a cursory inspection and moved on to the next, until she picked up the scrapbook. Yellowed, musty London Times newspaper clippings were pasted inside, aged copies of a baby boy’s kidnapping. Lucy scanned the articles and started to turn the page, when a name jumped out at her.

  Grayson.

  Stories of Andrew Grayson’s abduction. The news stories covered months of the investigation, and Lucy suspected the collection covered every minute detail on the missing child’s disappearance.

  Why would a man in Sydney, Australia have a rabid interest in a missing child in London?

  She looked at the scrapbook and back at the baby book and the picture became instantly clear.

  Exhilaration filled her. She’d found the answer, not Miles or Mr.-High-and-Mighty-Matt Foley. She had proven she was just as good as Miles Davis.

  As if she had conjured them up, Miles and Matt walked into the room. Miles must have caught the look on her face a
nd knew she had found something important.

  “What’s up, Turner?”

  She waved a hand over the items on the desk’s surface. “I’ve found the answer to why our original theory didn’t pan out.”

  Davis pulled out a chair. “Enlighten us.”

  She turned the scrapbook to face the two men. “You remember our theory that Alexander Grayson was really Trevor Nelson?”

  “Yeah,” Davis said. “And Dale shot us down.”

  “Not really. He just proved that Alexander was Ethan Grayson’s son.”

  Davis cocked an eyebrow. “And?”

  “Take a look at the baby pictures in the newspaper clipping and the pictures in the baby book.”

  Davis looked from picture to picture and passed it over to Matt. “Is she saying what I’m thinking?”

  “If you think she’s saying that Trevor Nelson is the Graysons’ first son, Andrew, I believe so.”

  Davis gave her a thumbs-up. “And I found another nail for his coffin. I checked some airports in Oklahoma for charters the two days Alexander was missing. A man matching his description chartered a plane early to Tampico, Mexico on the day Crawford was shot and returned the following day. And Chance Crawford picked him out of a photo lineup.”

  Matt turned and started for the door. “Outstanding work, guys. Get an arrest warrant immediately. We’ll head out to Grayson Manor as soon as it’s ready. I’ll notify any patrol cars in the area to head that way.”

  In the corridor outside Matt punched in Ian Hamilton’s number on his iPhone. He answered on the first ring, his voice anxious. “Matt, I was just about to call you. Emily isn’t here. Perkins said she ate breakfast and told him she was going for a walk. But he didn’t see her leave.”

  “Where is Alexander?”

  Ian groaned. “He spent the night away from home, but Perkins said he returned about ten minutes ago. I’m going to search the grounds.”

  As briefly as possible, Matt told the missionary what Lucy had discovered.

  Ian’s short intake of air sounded through the phone. “I don’t know what to say. Are you absolutely certain? Do you think he knows?”