Page 5 of Alibi for Murder (Colby Agency: The Next Generation #2)

Ridgeland Avenue, 8:50 p.m.

Steve sent Allie a text to let her know he’d arrived at her street.

As he navigated his SUV into the driveway, she switched on the exterior lights.

The porch and yard area close to the house brightened as if the sun had suddenly risen and shone only on that spot.

The over-the-top exterior lighting reminded him of something else about Allie’s family.

His mother had insisted that after the accident—meaning the car crash that took the life of the Holts’ daughter and son-in-law, Allie’s parents—the family hadn’t been the same.

It was as if they had feared that something would happen to their granddaughter—their only surviving family member.

They’d hovered over her, keeping extra close tabs on her every move.

Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been so painfully shy. She was the quietest kid he’d known.

But then she was the only one he’d known who had lost both parents before she was old enough to go to school.

It was a tough break.

She was also brilliant and pretty and very sweet.

But that was a long time ago, he reminded himself. Things and people changed. She might not be that same wallflower anymore.

He shut off the engine, grabbed the bags of food from the passenger seat and climbed out. He would know soon enough. By the time he was on the porch, the door opened—but not before he heard at least three locks disengaging.

Maybe she had her reasons. Either way, no judgment.

“You’re here.”

The genuine surprise in her voice and her expression made him wonder if she’d been let down a lot by friends who promised to drop by or do her some favor.

“Food, too.” He held up the bags. The smell of lo mein and fried rice had haunted him all the way here.

She ushered him inside and to the dining room, which was actually a part of the kitchen.

A typical L-shape allowed the smaller part, the dining room, to flow directly into the living room.

It was one of those houses with a larger second floor.

The best he recalled there was nothing on the first floor beyond the main living space.

All the bedrooms were up one floor. No basement, if he remembered correctly.

He glanced around. Definitely not much had changed about the place.

“This is like déjà vu,” he said as he settled the bags on the table.

She laughed a soft sound. “I really haven’t upgraded anything, just replaced whatever gave out. Decor isn’t my thing.”

He nodded his approval. “I like it. Your grandmother had great taste.”

Allie glanced around. “She wasn’t like the other grandmothers, that’s for sure.”

The very sixties-seventies vibe was evidence of that statement.

In his opinion, the couple had been the coolest grandparents ever.

Steve had always seen Virginia Holt and her husband, Gordon, as old hippies who probably smoked pot in the basement and were saving the wild parties for when Allie would eventually be away at college.

Except, according to Steve’s mother, Allie never went away to college.

She’d stayed right here in Woodstock. In this very house.

Allie hadn’t changed much, either. Still had that long brown hair trapped in a ponytail.

He vividly remembered how her brown eyes lit up when she laughed.

He would wager she had no idea how gorgeous she was.

With her tee that sported flowers and I’d Rather Be in the Garden along with well-worn jeans, she looked eighteen instead of thirty-two.

Her grandmother had dressed the same way and always looked far younger than the other grandmothers, even with her long gray hair that she’d always worn in a braid.

“Wine or beer?” Allie asked. “I usually drink wine, but I had beer delivered after we talked.”

Home delivery almost any time of the day or night was an amazing thing. “I’m good with whichever is handy.”

Once they were settled with plates filled and drinks handy, Steve suggested, “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what’s going on.”

After her call, there hadn’t been an opportunity for him to do any sort of research or to call anyone from the agency who could do a bit for him this evening. Ultimately, he’d decided to wait and hear what she had to say first.

Walking into the situation cold wasn’t a big deal, he’d known her most of his life.

He watched her face as she spoke, going over the visit from the two federal agents.

Allie really looked so much like the young girl he’d known in high school with her fresh, makeup-free face and ponytail.

Unlike him, she didn’t seem to have aged at all.

Her voice still had that lyrical rhythm to it.

He liked the sound of it. And when she got going with a story, her face came to life, emotions on full display.

Her memory appeared to be outstanding as well.

Her account of the conversation held with the agents was very detailed.

“I did a little looking into the murder,” she said as she poked at her rice, the momentum of her retelling slowing down. “Thomas Madison was a big deal—a partner at Ledwell. You probably don’t remember, but that’s where my father worked when he died.”

“Ledwell.” Steve nodded. “I’m familiar with the company. Fortune 500. Hot investment even all these years later. They’ve held their own in a very competitive marketplace.”

“I found that surprising as well. Usually someone else comes along who is a little better, but no one has been able to get ahead of Ledwell in the AI race. This murder has sent shockwaves through the industry and Wall Street, which I suspect is part of why the FBI is involved. Fraser and Potter said Madison was part of an ongoing case, so my guess is their case had something to do with the research currently being conducted at Ledwell or something from recent years.”

Steve chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Ledwell is the one that won that huge government AI contract just last year.”

“You’re right, and I’m sure you’ve heard about the various issues coming to light.

There’s a lot of controversy in the AI arena right now.

According to Google, Ledwell is pushing back on any new restrictive legislation.

They’ve basically had free reign until recently, and they’re not taking the changes well. ”

Steve reached for his cell, tapped the notes icon and started a list. “We’ll put AI R&D at the top of our list of motives for the situation—not necessarily for the man’s murder but for whatever is happening behind the scenes right now that may have impacted in some way the event or events that culminated in his death. ”

Allie set her fork down, and her shoulders sagged with the way she let go a weary breath. “I’m so glad I found you and that you came.”

He grinned. “Of course. It’s what friends do.”

Maybe friends was a stretch considering the time gap, but she no doubt understood his intent.

They ate in silence for a while. Steve watched her.

She ate with considerably more enthusiasm now that her trouble was on the table.

It wasn’t every day someone was visited by the FBI and accused of the murder of a man she didn’t know in a place where she hadn’t been in years.

She had every right to be upset and defensive.

He appreciated that she had enough faith in him to sound reasonably relaxed and open in spite of the concerns likely reeling in her mind.

Steve pushed his plate aside and settled his forearms on the table. She did the same, her gaze on his, searching. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered again. She was visibly braced for his conclusions.

“I don’t practice criminal law or really any other at this time,” he explained. “I primarily counsel and advise the agency on operational matters. I can represent you if that’s what you want.”

“Yes!” Her relief was palpable. “Please. Thank God.”

He smiled. “Our first step is to learn what the FBI believes and what the two agents working the case wish to prove with their visit to you. Are you their only suspect? Is closing the case quickly more important than digging around for other possibilities? I want to meet with Agents Fraser and Potter and get a feel for where they are with all this. Once we discover what precisely they want from you and what they hope to gain by pushing for the search of your property, we’ll have a better handle on just how bad the situation is for you. ”

Her shoulders sagged again. “The woman in the video is me. I’m reasonably confident it is,” she admitted. “But I was not there last week or any other day in the past five years.”

“Videos can be doctored—made to show what the editor wants others to see.”

She nodded. “I’m aware, and I considered that might be the case.”

“There’s also the possibility the video is from when you worked at the hospital.

The room number may have been altered for the purpose of making it fit the narrative they wanted to present.

The big question in my mind is why are they so convinced it’s real?

The Bureau has the ability to determine if the video has been altered.

I’m guessing that not showing that card gives them leverage—something to use to get what they want. ”

“It must have been altered. There’s just no other explanation.” She bit her lip as if considering whether to say the rest of what was on her mind.

“Do you have other thoughts about how that happened?”

She shook her head no. “I was thinking that it might be a good idea to go through the house. Maybe see if I can find anything at all related to Ledwell or this Thomas Madison. But I was worried it would make me look guilty if they showed up with a warrant and I’m in the middle of tearing the place apart. ”

“It’s your home,” he pointed out. “You can search it any way at any time you choose.”