Page 82 of Zero Divergence
“Did Tiffany Humphries come home alone, or were neither of them on the plane?” Sawyer asked.
“Franco returned home alone.”
Dread turned to outright fear. “Fuck,” he said, slamming his fist against the steering wheel. “This isn’t good.”
“Damn. Do you think he killed her?” Sawyer asked.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here, gentlemen,” Mendoza said. “I agree it’s very unusual that she didn’t return home with him from their second honeymoon, but I need you to stick to the plan. Let’s give Humphries the opportunity to lead us to Bonita Brothers. If not, you’ll get your crack at him in a few hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Royce said. Every instinct told him to go straight to Humphries’s house and confront the killer, but he knew the chief was right. He could not afford to act on impulse and emotion. They had a solid plan and needed to stick to it.
“I have contacts in Mexico I can call. Let me see what I can find out. We know what airport they flew into, which helps us narrow the search area a bit. You focus on Bonita and let me worry about Tiffany.”
“Yes, Chief,” Sawyer said.
No matter how difficult it was to concentrate, they continued searching for Bonita Brothers as discreetly as they could while waiting for their opportunity to speak to Humphries. They got it a few hours later when Mendoza called back to report Humphries hadn’t left his house other than to retrieve his dogs from the neighbor.
“You’re up, gentlemen,” Mendoza said. “Don’t lose your cool and blow it, Locke. He’s going to do his best to provoke you. I’m going to issue the APB and BOLO for Bonita Brothers.”
“I won’t let you down, sir,” Royce said vehemently. Or Tara, Christi, Abby, Harper, or their mothers.
They parked in front of Humphries’s two-story house a few minutes later. It was a newer home built to look like a Victorian mansion but with cleaner lines and less ornate trim. The square footage seemed more than two people needed, but the man was all about his image. Colorful flower beds lined the porch, which extended along the front of the house and wrapped around to the right side.
Royce looked over at Sawyer, who studied him intently. “I won’t fuck up, GB.”
Sawyer winked. “I know you won’t.” Then he got out of the car, forcing Royce to shove down his rising anxiety and follow him.
Royce rapped his knuckles against the door and the dogs inside started barking like crazy.
“That’s a lot of noise for two little dogs,” Sawyer quipped.
Humphries wore his usual arrogant smile when he answered the door on the second knock. A bronze tan had replaced his prison pallor, making the bastard look well-rested and very pleased with himself. “Well, this is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting a welcome-home committee. Forgive me if I don’t want to share my vacation pictures with you, Locke.” Humphries raked his gaze over Sawyer. “Sawyer Key. I’ve read quite a bit about you over the years.” The crazy bastard tipped his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “That church fire must’ve been scary. It’s amazing it didn’t damage your face…much.”
Fury boiled inside Royce, but he kept his mouth shut and his hands relaxed by his side.
Sawyer didn’t acknowledge Humphries’s remark. “Can we come in, sir?” he asked. “We need to speak to you about an urgent situation.”
Humphries sighed and rolled his eyes. “No, you can’t come in, and I’m not speaking to you without my lawyer present.”
“She’s dead,” Royce said on cue.
“I just heard the news today,” Humphries said unemotionally. “My wife and I were on our second honeymoon at the time, but you already know that, don’t you?”
Had he picked up his tail?
“How would we have known that?” Sawyer asked.
Humphries’s dark brow shot up. “Are we really going to act as if one of you didn’t call Mrs. Meyers pretending to be from the university to pump her for information? There is no Sylvester Goodfellow on the staff or university’s board.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Royce deadpanned. There was no way Mrs. Meyers could prove it was him since their numbers are blocked when they make outgoing calls.
“Right,” Humphries said, rolling his eyes. “Go away. I have nothing to say to you. Call Bill Elderwood. He’s taking over as my attorney.”
Royce wanted to remark on his lack of emotion in regard to Gross’s death, but he stuck to the plan instead. He waited until Humphries moved to shut the door in their faces, then said, “We think your life is in danger.” That got his attention. Humphries opened the door again and pinned Royce with a disbelieving look. “And Mrs. Humphries too.”
“Come again? Does this have something to do with Vivian’s death?”
“It does,” Sawyer said. “We’re actively looking for a suspect who we believe is obsessed with you.”