Page 15

Madigan

I set to work making a salad to serve alongside the remains of a shepherd’s pie I’d cooked the day before. I’d like to say I tuned out the conversation happening between Nick and Samuel in the other room, but that would be a lie. It was a one-sided conversation, but I got the gist, and from what I could gather, Samuel was less than impressed with his brother-in-law’s tardy update, and Nick’s flustered quasi-apology made it hard not to laugh. Being on the back foot didn’t suit Nick in the least, and the only person less convinced by the apology than me was Samuel, who I was liking more and more by the minute.

“I’m not saying he was definitely having an affair,” Nick reiterated with a loud groan. “I’m just saying it doesn’t look good. Surely you can see that.”

And so the one-sided conversation continued.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I didn’t get a look. Just his boots.”

“Some guy walking on the beach.”

“I am being honest.”

“Did you talk to the case officer?”

“What do you mean you haven’t had time?”

“Oh right.” He sounded sheepish. “I can’t believe it was just this morning.”

“How on earth would I know about the passports? He never said a thing.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Do you think I’m lying or something?”

“I know. I know. But as far as I knew, we were fine.”

“No, Samuel, you don’t need to?—”

“You don’t?—”

“All right. All right. Hang on.”

Footsteps rounded the corner of the kitchen and Nick’s harried expression said it all. “Samuel wants to meet up and talk with me tomorrow.”

I tried to read those grey depths. “And?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

I bit back a smile. “Are you trying to say you want me to be there?”

He shrugged. “Maybe? Yes?”

“Which is it?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

I grinned. “Then tell him to come here.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “Are you sure? Won’t that sully your carefully guarded personal space a little too much?”

I set my knife on the benchtop and glared at him. “Now you’re really starting to piss me off.”

Nick’s lips quirked and he lifted his phone back to his ear while I went back to chopping my tomatoes. “Madigan says to come for breakfast... around nine.”

I froze mid-chop and spun wide-eyed to find he’d moved closer somehow, so close that for the first time I could pick out tiny flecks of blue hidden in those grey eyes. What are you doing? I mouthed, horrified.

Nick returned a sunny grin my way, shark teeth gleaming. “Yeah, and grab some of those pastries from French Tart on your way.” He hung up and shot me an innocent look. “What? Too much?”

I lobbed a lettuce core his way and it hit him in the face.

“The guy is a journalist?” I set my knife down and spun the laptop around so I could see for myself.

“Apparently.” Nick swallowed a mouthful of salad and stabbed his fork at the screen. “See the byline. Lachlan King. I found the article bookmarked. It’s got to be the same guy, right? How many guys named Lachlan could he know, especially since as far as I’m concerned, he didn’t know any?”

I loaded a forkful of pie into my mouth and read the first couple of paragraphs. The article was about some Australasian drug lord who’d escaped on bail and been on the run for seven years. The journalist had tracked him to a dairy farm in the Waikato where he was renting a modest cottage under a different name while continuing to run his lucrative business under the very noses of the police. The owners of the farm had no idea who he was, only that he paid his rent on time and was a friendly chap. The journalist apprised the police of his discovery before he published the article, and the man was arrested.

I looked over at Nick. “I vaguely remember the trial, although I wouldn’t have recalled the name of the journalist, but the police were pretty red-faced about the whole thing, right?”

“You might say that.” Nick pushed his empty plate to the side and leaned back in his chair. “And I didn’t remember the journalist’s name either. He provided the tip-off and probably some useful information that didn’t make it into his exposé, but the police, including the financial crimes unit, still had to build their own case. I was just a lowly contractor at the time, but as I recall, they found the man had close to thirty million dollars stashed away in various accounts.”

I blew a low whistle. “That’s a lot of cash to hide in a small country. How did he get away with it?”

Nick shrugged. “Most people thought he’d skipped the country when he jumped bail. Turned out he was just lying low, changing his look, and setting up a fresh identity. New haircut and dye, coloured contacts, new name, and a weight loss of over thirty kilos does a fair bit to make a person almost unrecognisable. Plus, he was careful not to flash his cash. He had a ton of small businesses set up to launder his money, but only one, a legitimate dry-cleaning franchise, could be traced to his new identity. It was successful enough to justify his frequent travelling and long stints overseas.”

I shook my head. “Still, it can’t have been easy. All that money. The temptation must’ve been huge to spend some of it. Otherwise, why do it?”

“I’m sure,” Nick agreed. “But this was only in his New Zealand life. Overseas was a different story. The investigation uncovered three homes in Europe and another in the Virgin Islands, all under shell companies. Those are the places he lived it up large under a range of guises.” The conversation evaporated, but Nick’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Interesting, don’t you think?”

“To put it mildly.” My gaze raked over his face, lingering on the soft contours of his lips and the tantalising shots of silver threaded through his thick stubble. A glimpse of pink tongue caught my attention, there and gone in a heartbeat. My gaze jerked up to find him still staring at me. Busted. My cheeks burned, but all he did was smile, warm and soft and loaded with questions.

I debated simply ignoring them, then thought, fuck it. I shrugged. “I’m not going to apologise for ogling you. You’re a beautiful man, what can I say?”

Nick’s eyes briefly widened, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. Then a slow tide of pink crept up his neck and an almost-shy smile stole over his face. “A sentiment that goes both ways.”

And there we were again. Another step on that precarious tightrope we balanced atop. Too fast, too slow, or too far either direction and it could all disappear in the snap of a finger. I wasn’t sure what to think about the chances of something so fragile surviving, but there it was. I wasn’t about to run away, either.

And so, we sat, eyes soft on each other, quiet and watchful as a morepork’s call split the silence of the bush outside the window. Shadows painted the dining room floor, leaving one wall lit up in dull orange as the sunset dwindled through the west-facing glass. A branch scraped the kitchen window, a late sea breeze kicking up from the east.

And still we sat.

For how long, I wasn’t sure. Long enough to set my heart skipping and kindle heat further south. Long enough to know exactly how much trouble I was in with this man.

Nick cleared his throat and leaned forward, elbows on the table, grey eyes almost black in the dim light. “So, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I gave a soft snort. “You’re going to have to expand on that, all things considered.”

Nick’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and those cheeks pinked once again. “About the identity thing,” he qualified, adding a rueful smile.

I nodded. “In that case, if you’re thinking that Davis was possibly researching how to change your identity for his new thriller and that he met with Lachlan King as part of that, then yes.”

Nick stared at me for a long moment, his face a mask. Then his head started to nod and his eyes filled. “So, he wasn’t having an affair, then?” It was almost a plea.

“It’s another explanation,” I said by way of an answer, because even if we were right, it didn’t completely rule an affair out of the equation. “But we need more information.”

Nick was still nodding, although he seemed unaware of it. “You’re right. We’re not there yet. But it is something, right? It explains a lot of what I found—the desk calendar, the documents, the emails. And what if the passport and licence were part of his research, wanting examples. He was a perfectionist like that.”

“It would explain the expiry and birth dates. Whoever created the documents made sure Davis couldn’t use them.”

Nick pressed his palms to his eyes, then slammed a fist on the table. “I was so sure he was cheating on me. I should’ve trusted him. I should’ve known. I’m such a dick. You told me not to jump to conclusions.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression desperately miserable.

“Stop it.” I put my hand over his on the table. “You couldn’t know either way. You said that Davis always told you who he was talking to and what he was doing, but he didn’t this time and we still need to understand why. All you had to go on was what you found, and it didn’t look good. The idea he was having an affair wasn’t a stretch. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Nick, but as of right now, we don’t know anything for sure. That includes whoever this J person is, and why someone seems inordinately focused on stealing something from you.”

Nick locked eyes and I raised both brows in question. He nodded, drawing a slow, deep breath, steadier now. Finally, he spoke, “So, you still think the break-ins and the guy today are connected?”

I shrugged. “It’s more that I’d like proof they’re not.”

“Right, then.” He reached for his phone and spun the laptop back to face him.

I sat straight in my chair and jumped in, “Nick? What are you doing?”

He began to type into the search engine. “I’m going to call this Lachlan King and find out what the hell he and Davis were doing.”

“You can’t.” I pushed the laptop shut, sandwiching his hands. “You have no proof this is even the right guy.”

He pushed it open again and shot me a withering look. “Do you really believe there’s another Lachlan K with ties to identity fraud involved in this?” He started scrolling. “Come on, Madigan. You’re not that stupid.”

I swallowed the urge to tell him to watch his mouth and pulled my chair closer instead. “We’re gonna have a conversation about that word choice later. Right now, you need to think about the best way to approach this with him so that you get as much information as possible. What if they were having an affair?”

“Yes!” Nick jabbed a finger at the screen. “Got it.” He turned sideways to face me, his phone in his hand. “As for my approach, I’m thinking I’ll go with, ‘Hi, arsehole. I’m Davis Minton’s widower. I was wondering if you were having an affair with my husband before his accident?’ How does that work for you?”

I groaned and snatched the phone from his hand. “Don’t be a child.”

“I’m not.” He snatched it back and began stabbing numbers on the screen. “I’m behaving like a grieving husband who’s looking for answers. Besides, it’s the number of the newspaper he works for, not his personal one. I probably can’t do more than leave a message.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I fell back in my chair. “You couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Another disdainful look. “No. Would you? This is about my husband and what our relationship actually was under all the secrets. It’s the only thing I have left of him, and I want to know. I don’t expect you to understand. Just don’t get in my way.” His eyes squeezed shut like he might’ve regretted his words, but he didn’t apologise. Instead, he put the phone to his ear and turned away.

I’d been dismissed.

The message behind it clear as a bell.

Nick might like me, but I was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Hardly news.

I swallowed the disappointment and anger and walked our empty plates to the sink. Why was I bothering with a man who was so messed up he didn’t know what he wanted from one minute to the next?

I glanced sideways to where Nick sat at the dining room table and sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned me.

“Hello?” Nick’s eyes widened and he sat straight in his chair. “Um, is this Lachlan King?” He put the phone on speaker and waved me over.

I complied somewhat reluctantly and slid into a chair opposite.

“Yes, it is,” a man answered warily. “Who is this?”

Nick’s grey eyes locked with mine and I read the apology there. I ignored it.

Nick set the phone on the table between us. “My name is Nick Fisher. I’m Davis Minton’s husband... widower, I suppose is the correct term.”

A loaded silence filled the room, nothing but the sound of breathing from the other end of the line as we waited for the man to reply.

Finally, he said, “I don’t know any Davis Minton. You must have the wrong number. Have a nice evening.”

Nick shot up in his chair. “Your name was on his desk calendar.”

Partially true.

“And I read your emails. You met up with him the day of the accident. You had lunch together at the caravan. Were you having an affair with my husband?”

Oh boy. I groaned and covered my face with my hands, hoping like hell that we did in fact have the right guy. The renewed silence gave me hope. If we’d been wrong, the man should’ve been in full denial mode.

My hands slid slowly from my face to the table and I stared at the phone, waiting. Nick’s fingers wrapped around mine and I felt him trembling. My gaze shot to his and I could tell he was barely keeping his shit together. My pissiness at his thoughtless comment vanished in an instant and I squeezed his hand, my thumb grazing the smooth contour of his wedding band as I mouthed, You’ve got this.

He returned a weak smile and we continued to wait.

The slow breathing paused. “Who exactly are you?”

Nick’s gaze fixed on mine. “I told you. I’m Davis Minton’s husband.”

A video request popped up on screen and we both stared at it. Nick looked to me and I shrugged. He sighed and picked up the phone, turning it to keep me out of the picture.

Lachlan King grunted. “Your photos don’t do you justice. I’m sorry about what happened to Davis but I’m not sure how I can help you.”

“Some answers would be nice.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you recording this?”

“Should I be?” Nick kicked me under the table, and I immediately scrambled for my phone. “And do you think I’d tell you if I was?”

I set my phone to record and slid it quietly across the table.

Lachlan said nothing for a moment, then he sighed. “First off, we weren’t having an affair, not that I wouldn’t have been interested, but Davis was sickeningly in love with you. Now, is that all? If so, I have things to do.”

Nick’s face paled and his shoulders slumped, the air whooshing out of his lungs like he’d been holding it for hours, and maybe he had. “That’s...” A single tear made its way down his cheek. “Thank you.” His voice cracked and his head dropped forward, shoulders heaving. “That’s... good to know. I... I didn’t know what to think when I found those emails today, and his calendar, and... other stuff.”

Lachlan King fell quiet and I wished I could see his face. “I’m sorry.” His tone was softer now. “That must’ve been hard. To be honest, I’m surprised it took you this long to find them.”

Nick shrugged and wiped his eyes. “I haven’t been to the caravan since the accident.”

“Oh.” Lachlan sighed in understanding. “I did wonder. I was half expecting this call after the accident, and when it didn’t come, I, well, I don’t know what I thought. If it makes you feel any better, the last time I saw Davis, he was going to tell you everything. He only kept it from you to keep you safe, but rest assured we weren’t having an affair.”

Nick drew another shaky breath. “Then what were you doing?”

More silence.

Nick pressed, “Come on. Give me something. If Davis was going to tell me, then why can’t you? I know it was something to do with his research for the next book.”

Lachlan took a few seconds to reply, clearly debating with himself. “Yes, it involved research for his next book, but it was pretty dark stuff he wanted to know about. The kind of information and details that can get you in trouble if certain people learn about it.”

I caught Nick’s eye and gave him a thumbs-up. We were getting somewhere.

Lachlan continued, sounding more frustrated by the minute. “Davis didn’t want you to know about it for that very reason. You do work for the police and his brother is a cop. He didn’t want to compromise either of you.”

Nick blinked. “Compromise? Exactly what was he doing that might compromise us? You said it was just research.”

“It was,” Lachlan insisted. “But that doesn’t make it safe.”

Nick and I exchanged a glance. We were hitting a wall.

He ran a hand over his mouth. “So, why did Davis ask you ?”

Lachlan hesitated. “Because we knew each other from high school.”

Nick frowned at the screen. “I don’t remember him mentioning?—”

“We were acquaintances, nothing more,” Lachlan explained. “I was a year behind, so I barely clocked on his social radar. But we played in the same senior volleyball team, so... Anyway, he’d read a few of my investigative pieces and wanted to know if I could introduce him to an expert in the field he was going to write about.”

“An expert in creating new identities,” I offered, the words out before I could stop them. Shit.

Nick shot me a dismayed look and I mouthed an apology.

“Who the fuck is that?” Lachlan demanded.

Nick waved me around to his side of the table. “A friend.” He drilled me with a glare. “At least for now.”

I snorted and slid into the seat beside Nick. Then I wriggled my fingers at Lachlan King, an attractive man with a pale complexion and dark auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. Freckles fanned both cheeks, and the expression he wore was definitively pissed off. “Hi,” I said.

Lachlan scowled but said nothing.

“Does this expert’s name happen to start with J.?” I pressed, ignoring Nick’s wide-eyed stare, followed by a sharp crack to my ankle.

“Jesus Christ.” Lachlan’s eyes closed for a long few seconds before opening again. “Do you have any idea the risk you’re taking just asking about this shit?”

I ignored his warning, my curiosity getting the better of me. “Clearly not. But how about you answer the question.”

He hesitated then said, “Yes. His name was Justin.”

I almost fist pumped the air but Nick fired me another warning glare, so I sat back and let him take over.

“Yes,” Lachlan answered in a hushed voice. “He forged identity documents and he was damn good at it.”

I made the leap. “ He was your source for that drug kingpin you found, wasn’t he? Justin created his new identity, and then for some reason he leaked it to you.” My right leg jiggled up and down as I worked it through. “And he was the reason Davis was on that road the day of the accident. Davis had been to see him.”

The phone went silent and I repeated the question. “Hadn’t he?”

“Yes,” Lachlan hissed. “Yes.” He broke a heavy sigh. “Justin’s property was not far from there.”

Nick was frowning. “Why would this Justin guy dob in a client to you? It would ruin his business if word got out.”

“Or get him killed,” Lachlan muttered. “But he was already getting death threats from the man’s gang affiliations who he owed money to. They wanted to know where, or more importantly, who he was. So, Justin contacted me on the quiet and slipped me the guy’s new name. He knew that when the man was arrested, Justin would be off the hook.”

“But how did the gang know it was Justin who’d set up the new identity?”

Lachlan shot me a scathing look. “Because he was the best. Everyone knew that. Even if they didn’t know exactly who Justin was, they knew how to get in touch with him.”

“And Davis wanted to learn about what Justin did,” I said, almost to myself.

“Yes,” Lachlan confirmed. “So I set up an introduction. Justin owed me a favour for keeping his name quiet when things got a bit hairy with the police, and even though he was reluctant at first, the two of them became almost friendly. It was supposed to be a single phone interview, but they ended up meeting a half-dozen times at Justin’s actual home. The idea blew me away since I’d only ever met him once myself, and certainly none of his clients ever saw his face. But it turned out Justin was a serious fan of Davis’s books. Go figure. The day of the accident was supposed to be their last meeting.”

Nick frowned at the screen. “If it was Justin that Davis wanted access to, then why were you still in the picture?”

Lachlan sighed. “Because Davis found me useful. He had a character who was a journo and he was picking my brains about the work. That’s it. And that’s as much as you’re going to get from me. Trust me when I say you shouldn’t be pushing this.”

Nick stiffened, and when he spoke, his voice shook with anger. “Fuck that. And fuck you too. You say I don’t understand the risks I’m taking, and you’re right. I didn’t know there was a fucking risk until now because no one’s told me shit. My husband died a couple of months back and I’m only now finding out he was involved in some secret crap I knew nothing about. Do you have any idea what it’s like to discover laptops you knew nothing about, credit cards and bank accounts you weren’t aware of, a passport and driver’s licence for your husband but under a different name, not to mention my house was broken into twice.”

Lachlan drew a sharp breath. “Someone broke into your house?”

Nick growled, “Yes, twice. And today, some guy laid into me at the caravan and took off with a box of Davis’s stuff, including the laptop I was looking for. So, am I pissed off and running a tad short on patience for any bullshit runaround? Damn right I am. I want some fucking answers, and it starts with you.” His voice rose in defiance and I almost applauded.

Lachlan studied Nick for a long moment before conceding. “Fine. Justin gave Davis the passport and driver’s licence as examples, nothing more. They’re unusable.”

“We know,” I said. “The expiry date is past and the birth date is incorrect.”

Lachlan looked surprised. “You’ve got good eyes. But as for the credit card? I have no idea.” His gaze narrowed on Nick. “They followed you to the caravan?”

Nick frowned. “We aren’t sure. Maybe.”

“Yes,” I argued. “ I’m sure.”

Nick’s knee knocked against mine and I returned the favour, only harder. He grimaced but kept his focus on Lachlan. “Do you agree with him?” he asked, meaning me. “I just want to understand.”

Lachlan dragged his fingers through his hair, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. “Okay, look. I don’t know if you were followed or not, but you need to be careful, regardless. Davis was only loosely connected to my past, and that land was in your mother-in-law’s name. It should’ve been off the radar, which is why we met there.” He unleashed another heavy sigh. “I shouldn’t even be talking about this over the phone.”

“Then meet with me,” Nick pleaded. “I can keep my mouth shut. It’s part of my job. And I don’t understand why you never tried to get hold of me after the accident.”

Lachlan hesitated. “I wanted to, at first. I really did. But then I figured Davis would wake up and explain everything himself, so there was no need for me to pre-empt it.”

“But he didn’t wake up, did he?” Nick snapped. “And you still didn’t contact me. Why?” I could almost hear Nick’s teeth grinding. “Tell me what you know. If not for me, then for Davis’s sake. Otherwise, I’ll keep hounding you until you do. I’ll leave messages at the paper, stalk you on social media, maybe even get my cop brother-in-law to pay you a visit.”

Lachlan groaned, the battle playing out in his eyes as he looked between us. The outcome was fifty-fifty.

I reached under the table for Nick’s hand and he grabbed on tight.