Page 26
Quaid
A slan did not get up with me at five. After shutting off the alarm and checking both our phones to be sure we hadn’t missed a call from Bryn, I dressed in running shorts and one of Aslan’s band shirts before spending thirty minutes on the treadmill in the basement.
I’d have hit the street, but I didn’t want to be far from the house if a call came in, case- or baby-related.
Aslan was in the kitchen making coffee when I returned upstairs. Oscar was going to town on his morning allotment of canned food, making a typical mess by flinging the chicken and gravy chunks halfway across the room with each lick.
“You forgot his food mat,” I said, drawing Aslan’s attention.
He glanced groggily at the cat and shrugged. “Couldn’t find it. Besides, he flings it beyond the parameters of the mat every time. It makes no difference.”
True. Aslan wore nothing but boxers and a metric ton of exhaustion if the way he leaned against the counter said anything .
Scanning my sweaty body, he shook his head and huffed. “I don’t know how the fuck you run in the morning after less than three hours of sleep. How are you not dead?”
I smirked, mopping my brow on the bottom of the T-shirt. “I had a rejuvenating orgasm before bed last night and slept like a baby.”
“I don’t know who invented that saying. Babies don’t sleep. You’ll see.” He handed me a steaming mug of coffee and pecked my lips. “You taste salty. Go shower and get dressed. I’ll make you food before you head out. Think about where you want me today.”
“I want you with me.”
“Maybe you should run that by your partner to be sure that’s okay.”
“It will be fine. No waffles. I’m not that hungry.”
Aslan shooed me from the kitchen with a swat to my ass. I brought my coffee upstairs with me to get ready for work.
When I returned, shower-fresh and ready for the day, I discovered a bowl of my favorite cereal waiting to be doused in almond milk with a small plate of sliced strawberries on the side.
Aslan despised my choice of cereal—he and Dad claimed it tasted like cardboard—and was frying himself eggs instead. I moved behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“There’s more coffee.”
“Mm. Magic rejuvenation juice.”
I kissed his neck and helped myself to a fresh cup, topping off Aslan’s mug in the process before sitting to eat.
He joined me with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. The instant he sat, his bare foot connected with my sock-covered one under the table.
His big toe traced a path along my ankle, sneaking up under the cuff of my trousers.
This was our thing. A silent connection. He’d been doing it for years.
We ate in comfortable silence. The domesticity was peaceful and familiar. Every once in a while, I caught Aslan watching me eat. When I made eye contact, he simply smiled. He didn’t need to say anything. His love radiated through the room.
I fed him a piece of strawberry, and he shared a bite of scrambled eggs. When I offered him a spoonful of cereal, he laughed and swatted at my hand. “Not on your life.”
“I’ve decided to start the day by chatting with Nixon,” I said when my food was nearly gone. “I think Jordyn and I should put pressure on him. I know he’s upset, but I’d like him to explain why his wife singled him out. Twice.”
“And Jude?”
I considered. “I need Costa’s report first. I want to know what, if anything, he finds so I can determine the right angle to take. Something tells me this revolves around Jude, Nixon, and this money issue.”
“It might also be wise to get a warrant for the Davises’ accounts.”
I set my spoon down, frowning as I picked up my coffee. “Why?”
“It could be Nixon is guilty and passing blame to Jude as a cover-up to save face. Jude could be fighting to prove Nixon’s the one responsible.
Think of the notes. What is the truth they refer to?
Who are two people who can ruin each other ?
You probably can’t get a warrant for the company, at least not at this stage.
The reasoning is too loose. But you can check Nixon’s finances and be sure there isn’t anything unusual going on. ”
It wasn’t a bad idea. I made a mental note to run it by Jordyn and see what she thought.
Before I could excavate more plans for the day, my phone rang. It was six thirty. I expected it to be my partner checking in, but it wasn’t. The call was registered as unknown.
Frowning, I connected. “Valor.”
“Yes, hello. Is this, um, Detective Valor with the Toronto Police?”
“It is. Who’s calling? ”
“This is Dontrel Aston, security at the Bay-Adelaide Center. You gave me your card yesterday. I’m sorry. I expected a voicemail at this time of day. Didn’t know you’d be answering. I was going to leave you a message.”
“My days start early. What can I do for you, Dontrel?”
“Well, here’s the thing. You asked me to call if I remembered something about Mr. Davis and his business meeting in the courtyard. Now, I can’t swear I remember what day it was. It could have been on the Tuesday, or it could have been on the Friday of the week before. The old brain gets muddled.”
“You saw Mr. Davis meet with someone?”
“I often see him meet with people. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Like I said, lots of folks in the building step out of the stuffy offices and take their work downstairs if they can.”
I put the phone on speaker, wanting Aslan to hear whatever the man had called to say.
“Go on.”
“Well, you see. I only mention this because I believe it was on the night you asked about. I’m not trying to get anyone in trouble.”
“Not at all.”
“Personal business is personal business.”
“Absolutely.”
Dontrel tsk ed. “You see, I saw him meet with someone, and it didn’t look like a business meeting.
I would have mentioned it before, but I was conflicted about confidentiality and losing the trust of the people who work in the building.
I shouldn’t broadcast their private affairs. I should mind my business.”
“I assure you, whatever you reveal to me will only be used within the department for our investigation. It might pertain to a serious case, Mr. Aston. ”
“I know. Mr. Davis’s son’s missing. I heard on the six o’clock news this morning. It’s why I decided I needed to call.”
Aslan rolled his hand. I agreed. The man was taking an eternity to get to the point, but I didn’t want to push too hard since he seemed conflicted.
“What did you see, Dontrel?”
“Mr. Davis met with a young woman. Not a business-type woman. You can tell those sorts easily with how they dress and talk, always in high heels with their briefcases. Women today are powerhouses. Never underestimate them. That’s what my wife tells me.
This was a young girl. Pretty thing. Maybe twenty or so.
I’ve got a daughter about the same age, so I think my guess is about right. Their meeting… It was… intimate.”
I caught Aslan’s eye. He’d gone still, lips parted.
“Did she have red hair?” I asked.
“Yep. Touched by fire, don’t they say? Anyhow. It seemed to be a… personal meeting, like I said. I sure hope I’m not getting anyone in trouble. I felt obligated to let you know, and I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”
“I appreciate your phone call, Dontrel. I have an important question. Would you be willing to make a statement, understanding that the information you shared with us would only be used to advance our case and not to exploit you in any way?”
“Well… I suppose that would be okay. Can we do it away from work? I don’t want anyone to talk.”
Aslan tapped his chest, and I nodded.
“Do you work today, Dontrel?”
“I do. Not until eight.”
“Can I send a detective to your residence right now?”
“Well, sure. That works for me. ”
We made the arrangements, and I hung up.
“The second you have his statement, get a warrant for video surveillance from their food court area and have Costa find me proof of this meeting.” I dragged my fingers through my hair, messing up the meticulous gelling I’d given it.
“Nanny Clementine hasn’t even been on my radar. ”
“When was she fired?”
“Last week sometime. Nixon has some explaining to do.”
***
I called Edwards and gave him an update as I drove to the Davises’.
Due to the nature of the case, he didn’t feel we needed a press conference.
We weren’t pleading with an unknown perpetrator to return the child.
Whoever had Crowley was someone close to the family, and I suspected the parents had answers they weren’t sharing.
Despite my suspicion, Edwards told me to tread lightly where Imogen and Nixon were concerned, expressing the possibilities of backlash if the department didn’t present itself as sympathetic to the parents of a missing child.
He wouldn’t hear any arguing on the matter.
“You’ve got a delicate situation on your hands, Valor.
I’m not saying don’t investigate, but god help me, I don’t want the media giving us grief. ”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
The press hadn’t arrived on the scene yet, so Cragmuir Court was quiet. After a quick text to Aslan, asking him to let me know immediately if the security guard confirmed the redhead was Clementine, I waited for my partner to show up.
Jordyn parked behind the Charger less than five minutes later.
I met her on the street outside the Davises’ and told her about the phone call from Dontrel and my instructions to Aslan.
She agreed about acquiring a financial breakdown of the Davises’ accounts, and I texted Aslan to add it to his and Costa’s list for the day.
Since we had at least a couple of hours before they could report back to us, I suggested we chat with Nixon.
“Little liars everywhere,” Jordyn said as we approached the house.
“Indeed.”
Table of Contents
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