“No, you just drive in.”
“Did you see any security cameras around or any security guards?”
“There was no security guard, and it was too shabby to have any surveillance cameras.”
“How long would you say you were there?”
“Talking with him? Five minutes. Before that, snooping around? About ten minutes. I took pictures.”
“You took pictures inside his apartment?”
“You’re not going to believe what I saw.” Pam looked at her iPhone, and Jake came over as she thumbed through to her camera roll, a multicolored grid like an electronic mosaic. She looked over at him, then edged backwards again. “Forget it. I don’t have time to look at them. I have to get to work.”
“You’re not even going to stand next to me now?”
“You think everything is fine, just like that?”
“No, of course not, but—”
“Nothing’s fine, nothing. You got us into this mess. You ruined our lives. You ruined our son.”
“Honey—”
“Don’t ‘honey’ me. I don’t want to talk about it now. I have to get to work. If I get in any later, people will start asking questions.”
“Can I see the pictures?”
“You can’t see them in the sun, anyway.” Pam waved the iPhone at him. “He keeps a bulletin board over his desk and it has lots of pictures of Kathleen. He was stalking her. You were right, okay? Is that what you need to hear?”
“So you took pictures of his desk.” Jake wondered if her fingerprints would show up anywhere. “Was his computer there?”
“Yes, a laptop. I took a picture.”
“The police said that whoever killed him took his laptop and phone. Did you see a phone anywhere?”
“No, I assume he had it with him. Maybe it will show up in the photos. You can look for yourself.” Pam hit a few buttons on her iPhone. “I’ll email—”
“No, don’t email—”
“Why not? I just did.”
“Pam, think about this.” Jake realized that she hadn’t thought it through, probably because she’d been so upset. “The police are looking for a brunette who had an argument with Voloshin right before he was murdered. They suspect he had a girlfriend, but we know that woman is you, unless another brunette came by later, like maybe Kathleen’s mother, but still, I don’t know why she would—”
“So what?” Pam checked her watch. “Could you speed it up?”
“So after you leave Voloshin’s apartment, sometime during last night, he turns up dead. If the police figure out that you were the brunette, they could suspect you of his murder. They could come question you, like they did me, at your chambers or at home.”
Pam stood stunned, blinking. Behind her, a shadow crossed the quarry from a passing cloud.
“You were the last person to see Voloshin alive, and the photos you took are proof that you were in his apartment last night. Now that you sent them to me, and even if you delete them from your phone, we can’t delete them from the email server.” Jake could see her withdrawing, recoiling as it dawned on her. “Your picture is in the newspaper from time to time, so one of the tenants could have recognized you. Or even if you hadn’t been seen, a security camera or even a traffic-light camera could’ve taken your picture. If the police come to question you, you’re done for, and so are we all.”
Pam’s lips parted, but she still didn’t speak.
“Honey, are you okay?” Jake asked gently, reaching for her arm, but she jerked it away, dropping her sunglasses and iPhone. They both bent down to retrieve the items, but she reached them first and snatched them up from the gravel and dirt, then held them to her chest in an oddly protective way.
“Jake. That’s not possible, what you’re saying.” Pam frowned, shaking her head and backing away, her voice softer. “That’s impossible. Nobody would think that of me. The police would never think that.”
“They could, honey. They came to my office today because I called Voloshin this morning, telling him the transfer would be late. His murder hadn’t hit the news by then, but it probably has now—”
“That’s why the police came to you? What did you tell them?”
“I told them that Voloshin came to me as a prospective client but that I didn’t sign him. I did the best I could, but I couldn’t really explain why he sought me out at the basketball game.” Jake could see she was getting more upset, backing away from him and shaking her head. “If they get his phone records, the police will see that I was the last person to talk to him last night, but I think I explained that. They didn’t ask me if I had an alibi, but they still could. And you, what’s your alibi?” Jake didn’t ask because she was so distraught, but what he wanted to ask was, Is Dr. Dave your alibi?
“Oh no. Oh no.” Pam closed her eyes, still clutching her phone and sunglasses. “I put myself on the hook, didn’t I? I went over there. I argued with him, loudly. I didn’t try to hide. I didn’t wear sunglasses or anything. Anyone could have seen me. Anyone could’ve heard us arguing. Anyone could’ve seen my car or my license plate. I didn’t know someone would kill him. Who would kill him—”
“Honey, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out, together.” Jake took a step toward her.
“No, leave me alone, I have to go.” Pam turned away, hurrying toward her car.
“Pam, please!” Jake hustled after her and caught her arm, but she wrenched it back, tears filling her eyes.
“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone! I hate you! You ruined everything, everything, everything!”
“Pam, no—”
“Stay away from me! Stay away from our house!” Pam reached her car and flung open the door. “I’m going home tonight, not you! You won’t live there, ever again! It’s over, Jake! We’re over!”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Jake sped away from the quarry, as if his guts had been kicked out of him. He turned onto Concordia Boulevard, its four lanes of traffic beginning to congest with the coming noontime rush, and he steered the car toward home. He wasn’t going back to the office and he wanted to look at the pictures from Voloshin’s apartment, then figure out if he could delete them from his email server.
We’re over!
Jake tried to put Pam’s voice out of his mind, but couldn’t. He looked through the windshield at the traffic light, but all he saw was her tears. His fingers curled around the plastic steering wheel, but all he could feel was the warmth of her hand under his palm. He had taken that touch for granted. He was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she had cheated on him, but now it was beginning to sink in that she could really be in love with Dave, and that he had lost his wife forever.
A horn blared behind him, and Jake came out of his reverie, checking the rearview mirror. A massive construction truck was flashing its lights for him to move out of the fast lane. He hit the gas, powered through a yellow light, and reached for his phone, pressing the buttons on-the-fly to call the office.
“Hey, how are you doing?” Amy picked up instantly.
“I’m fine, thanks. Amy, I’m not going to be back to the office for a couple of hours. Can you deal?”
“Totally.” Amy paused. “But what’s going on? You seem so—”
“I thought I’d work at home. I got nothing done this morning and I don’t need any more interruptions.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Hold the fort and I’ll give you a call as soon as I know what my schedule is. Take care.”
Jake turned left off of Concordia Boulevard, got home in no time, and hit the house running, letting the door slam closed behind him. Moose waddled out of the kitchen, his fluffy tail wagging slowly.