Page 31 of Zero Divergence
“I heard him say, ‘If you don’t sign the papers, I will kill you.’”
Sawyer looked at Royce. “That’s pretty huge.”
Vivian Grosshad been married toJackVincenzo for decades. Royce still couldn’t believe it, but he tamped down the urge to tell Blakemore to hurry the fuck up as he walked around Gross’s home office. The scheme inside the small room was as sterile as the living room. The white, glass, and chrome were so bright they practically screamed. Royce wondered how Gross could hear herself think in the space. The only spot of color was a bouquet of pink roses on the credenza behind her desk.
What felt like an eternity later, Blakemore said, “Nothing is out of place. Her expensive MacBook is still here, so the motive isn’t robbery.”
He started to tell the kid to leave discovering the motive to the professionals but caught himself, which was a good thing considering the guy looked like he was on the verge of collapsing at any minute. “You won’t be able to stay here as long as the home is a crime scene. Do you have a place you can go?”
Blakemore briefly closed his eyes and nodded. “I can bum around on a friend’s couch, I’m sure. Can I pack some clothes and get my school stuff?”
“Of course,” Royce told him, pulling out his business card and handing it to him. “Here’s my number if you think of anything else we should know.”
“Thanks. I wrote my cell phone number on the paper,” Blakemore said, nodding toward the forgotten folded paper in Sawyer’s hand. Finding out the identity of Blakemore’s mystery man took a back seat to the bombshell the guy dropped on them. “Please let me know if I can help in any way. Vivian was a good person. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”
Neither did Tara, Abby, Christi, or Harper.Royce said, “We’ll be in touch if we have more questions.”
“I’ll just head upstairs and pack a bag, then,” Blakemore said. He glanced around the space, looking unsure if he should leave the detectives in her office. He must’ve decided he didn’t have the energy left to argue with them because he nodded and left the room.
Royce gestured for Sawyer to lead the way, then closed the door behind them, securing the room like he’d assured the kid he would. They found Chief Mendoza in the living room. He was talking quietly into his cell phone, so they remained in the dining room, giving him privacy to conclude his call. Glancing up, he raised his forefinger, signaling he needed a minute.
“I bet he wants to give you a different finger already,” Sawyer said quietly.
“Most likely,” Royce agreed, meeting Sawyer’s gaze. “So, are you familiar with The Cockpit?”
Humor shimmered in Sawyer’s warm, brown eyes. Royce knew the answer, but Mendoza wrapped up his call and waved them over before Sawyer could confirm his suspicions. That only made the immature hissy fit rising inside him worse. He’d get over his irrational jealousy without making Sawyer feel guilty over choices he’d been free to make. Royce was so busy clapping himself on the back that he missed half of the exchange between Sawyer and their chief.
“Seriously?” Mendoza asked, leading Royce to believe Sawyer had already dropped the bomb. The chief moved closer and lowered his voice. “Senator Jack Vincenzo?”
“According to the kid,” Royce said.
“What kid?” the chief asked.
“Blakemore,” Sawyer clarified. “Locke calls everyone under the age of thirty a kid,” Sawyer told Mendoza. “He acts like he’s turning ninety-four in a few weeks instead of thirty-four.”
Royce just shrugged. “In many ways, I feel like I’ve aged sixty years since my last birthday.” He refused to let his mind wander to just how different his celebration would be this year. It would be his first one without Marcus since they met as kids, but then again, it would be his firstwithSawyer. One man would never replace the other because their roles in his life were vastly different, but Sawyer was his key to everything he’d ever wanted, plus the things he’d never allowed himself to wish for when he blew out birthday candles as a kid. Sawyer was his everything.
“I imagine so,” Mendoza said sympathetically. Then he shifted the conversation back to the case. “Do you have any reason not to believe Blakemore?”
Royce and Sawyer exchanged a glance before shaking their heads.
“No, sir,” Royce said.
“I can’t see what he’d gain from lying about Ms. Gross being married, especially to someone as high profile as Senator Vincenzo.”
Mendoza nodded. “It’s nearly impossible to believe they’ve kept the truth buried during this hostile political climate.”
While Royce didn’t follow politics closely, he read the paper every day and knew Savannah’s other golden boy, Jack Vincenzo, was engaged in a highly contested re-election bid with both a challenger from the other party and one within his own. With the primary elections only five and a half months away, his campaign could not afford this kind of scandal.
“According to Blakemore, things had turned really nasty between them recently, and he threatened to kill her.”
Mendoza narrowed his eyes. “How recently?”
“Last week.” The timing was as suspect as the brilliance of Vincenzo’s white smile.Those damn teeth would fit right in around here.
“Shit,” Mendoza said. “Tread lightly, gentlemen. The senator was just in town for the weekend for a fundraiser. I’m not sure if he’s still here or if he’s returned to Atlanta.”
“We’ll head out to his residence here first to see if he’s home. If not, we’ll call his office and find out where he is so we can speak to him in person. There’s no way I’m making this notification over the phone and missing his reaction,” Sawyer said.