Chapter 25
CHRIS LOPEZ LIVED IN SOUTH BOSTON. And not the recently gentrified, up-and-coming part of Southie, but the hard-core, dilapidated triple-deckers with rotting-out front porches and cheap vinyl siding. Walking distance to several neighborhood pubs, of course, but still…
Tessa drove over with Wyatt in her car. The other New Hampshire cop, Kevin, had stayed behind to contact various emergency rooms and methadone clinics in northern New Hampshire for possible Libby Denbe sightings.
Tessa found it unnerving to drive with a guy in the passenger’s seat. Wasn’t sure why. A Lexus SUV had plenty of interior space. And true to her initial assessment, Wyatt wasn’t exactly prone to blather. He sat reasonably relaxed, resting against the passenger-side door, leaving the middle console as neutral territory.
She had to make a couple of quick driving moves. Merging here, tucking in there. He whistled once in appreciation as she veered deftly around a particularly aggressive driver. But Wyatt didn’t comment, or appear unduly tense.
“God bless the mountains,” he muttered once, which she took to explain his feelings on Boston drivers.
She’d selected for her vehicle’s GPS the British butler’s voice. Jeeves, she called him. She’d picked the accent to amuse Sophie, who would then attempt to mimic it, but also because it seemed less grating to be told to make the next available legal U-turn in the Queen’s English. Wyatt had broken into a grin at the first voice command, so apparently he was a man with a sense of humor. She could appreciate that.
He was also freshly showered and in a clean uniform. A man who planned ahead.
She liked that, too.
Okay, so, Chris Lopez.
They parked in front of a local bar, then walked to the corner and inspected the crumbling white triple-decker that served as Chris Lopez’s legal address.
“Fixer-upper,” Wyatt stated, not a question. “Bet he picks on it, when he’s around. Man’s got skills and connections. Might even funnel some ‘extra’ supplies from job sites. Build a little personal equity from corporate overages.”
Tessa nodded. Not a bad bet. Place looked quiet at the moment. Lights off. They’d kept the Denbe crew up late last night, answering questions at headquarters. Even then, she wouldn’t be surprised if the build team had grabbed a few beers afterward, sharing suspicions, fears, guilt over the fate of their missing boss.
Would it be work as usual on Monday, she wondered, flying out to whatever job site? Or would the guys hang closer to home, desperate for word? The FBI hadn’t issued any travel restrictions with regard to Denbe’s core management team.
Maybe, after talking to Lopez, that would change.
Wyatt approached first, testing out the sagging front steps with his heavier weight, gesturing at several spots to avoid. They weren’t approaching with strict caution, and yet Tessa was aware that both of them had fallen silent, Wyatt in the forward position, herself, automatically a couple of steps back, where she could help cover him, even as his larger mass shielded her approach.
Sophie had climbed into her bed at four this morning. Not said a word. Just snuggled up close. Then, when Tessa’s alarm had gone off at six:
“Mrs. Ennis says you’re helping a family.”
Tessa, halfway across the room, focused on getting ready: “Yes.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They…got a little lost.”
Her daughter, sitting up in bed: “Someone took them.”
“We don’t know for sure.”
Sophie, repeating firmly: “Someone took them. Do they have a little girl?”
“They have a big girl. Teenager.”
“Does she know how to fight?”
“I’m told the whole family knows how to fight.”
“Good. They’ll be someplace dark. That’s what kidnappers do. They take you, and lock you up someplace all alone and very dark. You should search those places first.”
Tessa, turning away from her dresser to meet her eight-year-old daughter’s gaze as somberly as her daughter met hers. The therapist had advised a straightforward approach to dealing with Sophie’s trauma: Acknowledge the incident, encourage communication and promote empowerment. No dismissing of fears or placating of nerves.
Sophie had learned the hard way that adults couldn’t always protect her. There was nothing Tessa could do or say about that now.
“What else would you recommend?” Tessa asked her daughter.
“You should check the windows for a sign. Maybe the word help. You can write on dirty windows, you know. Just lick your finger and use your spit to draw each letter. Except you have to keep licking your finger, and after a while, your finger doesn’t taste so good.”
“Got it.”
“They might need food. You should bring snacks. Kidnappers don’t like to feed kids. Especially bad kids, and when you’re scared, it’s hard to be good.”
A small ache tearing into Tessa’s heart. Trying hard not to think too much about what her daughter must have endured two years ago. Keeping her own voice steady and resolute: “What kind of snacks should I bring?”
“Chocolate chip cookies.”
“Okay. I’ll stock my car with blankets and chocolate chip cookies. Maybe a thermos of hot chocolate?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Sophie. That’s very helpful.”
“Are you going to shoot someone, Mommy?”
“I’m not planning on it.”
“But you’re going to bring your gun?”
“Yes.”
“Good, Mommy. I think you should.”
Now, Tessa couldn’t help but think that Chris Lopez’s triple-decker appeared cold and dark. And the lower windows were very dirty, the kind that would make a finger taste particularly awful when smearing out a message for help.
Tessa placed her right hand inside her open coat, on the butt of her gun. She turned her body slightly sideways, to make it less of a target.
Then, she nodded once to Wyatt, who raised his left hand and knocked.
A BLACK LAB OPENED THE DOOR. Older dog, with a graying muzzle that stood out in sharp contrast to his sleek black coat. He released the rope that had been tied around the door handle, then sat, staring patiently at Tessa and Wyatt while thumping his tail in welcome.
“Hello?” Tessa called out.
“Say, good dog,” a man’s voice called from upstairs. Chris Lopez.
“Good dog,” Tessa muttered. The black Lab thumped his tail a couple more beats.
“Good dog, Zeus,” the voice called from upstairs.
Tessa still had her hand on the butt of her gun, slowly scanning the shadowed interior for signs of other life. “Good dog, Zeus,” she repeated.
The dog yawned. Apparently, her voice wasn’t too convincing.
“Chris Lopez?” she called out. “It’s Tessa Leoni, Northledge Investigations. Got a couple of questions for you.”
A few seconds later, the staircase creaked, then shuddered as Lopez went rat-a-tat down the upper half. When he rounded the lower landing and spotted Wyatt as well, his steps slowed. He was holding a rag, wiping what appeared to be white clay from his fingers and forearms. Now, he gripped the rag tightly, coming to a halt two steps from the bottom.
“Do you have…news?” He spoke the words tightly, as if already anticipating that any word that took two investigators to deliver wouldn’t be good.
“No. Just more questions. May we come in?”
“Yeah. I guess. I mean, sure. Couldn’t sleep, so just, um…been grouting the upstairs bath. Give me a sec. I’ll wash up in the kitchen.”
He gestured toward the back of the house, and Tessa and Wyatt followed him through the entry, past the staircase to the rear-facing kitchen. Zeus, the elderly guard dog, plodded along beside them, apparently content to join the party.
The kitchen turned out to be gutted. Stripped down to the subfloor, with a lone refrigerator, jury-rigged sink and several sawhorses topped with plywood serving as counters. In the corner sat an old blue card table big enough for four. Chris nodded toward it, so Tessa and Wyatt each grabbed a metal folding chair and took a seat.
“Sorry for the mess,” Lopez said as he banged on the faucets, started scrubbing the grout from his hands. “I bought the place two years ago. Figured I’d have it fully functional in eight months. You’d think, as a construction professional, I’d know better.”
“Doing the work yourself?” Wyatt spoke up.
“Exactly.”
“Licensed?”
“’Course not. But I got buddies who are. They already helped update plumbing and electrical. Now, I’m mostly down to finish work. In theory, I can manage that.”
“You like carpentry?”
“Most days, more than it likes me.”
Zeus circled the table. Handsome dog, with broad head, silky ears. He stopped in front of Tessa, cocking an eyebrow in clear expectation. Tessa’s husband, Brian, had had a beloved German shepherd. Her own experience with dogs was limited, making her uncertain. “What does he want?”
“What does any man want? Your undying devotion and a decent back scratch.”
Tessa held out a hand. The dog moved until his head was underneath. She took that as a hint, and rubbed between his ears. The old dog closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.
“You can have a dog even with your travel schedule?” she asked Lopez. He’d stopped scrubbing and moved on to rinsing.
“For starters, Zeus is hardly a dog. He considers himself human, plain and simple. Two, he lives with my neighbors. But they work most weekends, so if I’m around, Zeus hangs with me. We hammer things, sand floors, belch. You know, guy time.”
“And he can open doors?” Wyatt, with a touch of awe.
“When he’s not fetching beer. Hey, these are valuable life skills.” Lopez banged off the faucet, grabbed a roll of paper towels to dry his hands and crossed back to them.
Zeus opened one eye at his approach, then resumed sighing blissfully beneath Tessa’s touch.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Lopez muttered. “So much for the code of brotherhood. Keep that up, and I’ll have no choice but to rat you out, buddy. Mention to the pretty girl that, sure, you can open doors, but walk over a metal sidewalk grate? Cross a suspension bridge? Turns out, Mr. Handsome is afraid of heights, which I learned the hard way, having to carry him down the Lion’s Head trail on Mount Washington as he trembled like a baby. Hiking up, all good. But then, turning, looking down… Black Labs can turn green. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
Zeus didn’t seem to care that his deepest darkest secret had just been revealed. He placed his head on Tessa’s lap and sighed again.
“You’re a hiker?” Wyatt again.
“When I can. Gotta say, this project’s keeping me busy.”
“White Mountains?”
“Yep.”
“Favorite trails?”
Lopez rattled off several. By the sound of it, he knew his way around the Presidential Range. Interesting, given the location of Justin Denbe’s jacket in northern New Hampshire.
But if Chris Lopez was damning himself, he didn’t seem aware of it.
“So,” Lopez said shortly, “I’m kind of thinking you didn’t come all the way here to ask me about hiking.”
“Nope,” Wyatt agreed.
“What can I do for you?”
Tessa decided they might as well get straight to it: “Tell us about Kathryn Chapman.”
The effect was immediate: “Ah, shit. Do you mean my stupid niece? Or my boss’s even stupider ex-girlfriend?”
CHRIS’S SISTER HAD ASKED HIM FOR A FAVOR: Could he find a job for her daughter, Kate, at Denbe Construction? Unfortunately, given that business was slow, there was a temporary hiring freeze. But then Chris heard that the building’s travel agency had an opening for a receptionist. Perfect. He got his niece an interview and a couple of weeks later, Kate was employed and Chris’s sister was happy.
“All I wanted,” Lopez emphasized slowly, his dark eyes still snapping, “was to get my niece a job. So I got her a job. Not in my company, but in my building. End of story.”
Except, of course, it wasn’t.
Chris became suspicious in January. Over the holidays, it became clear that Kate had a new boyfriend. She kept sneaking off to check her phone, blushed when anyone asked about her job, hell, was so obvious about trying not to be obvious that even Chris had teased her a couple of times.
Then, just two weeks later, Lopez had walked into the travel agency to arrange for a couple of plane tickets and saw them: his boss, Justin Denbe, leaning over Kate’s desk, and Justin had this smile and Kate had this look on her face, half dazed, half dazzled, and just like that, Chris knew.
“Not the first time,” he said bitterly. “Justin? Shit. You gave me a hard time”—he shot Tessa a look—“but I just talk a good game. Hell, I travel three hundred and forty days a year and spend the majority of my waking hours with a bunch of hairy-backed guys who are barely evolved enough to walk upright. I only wish I could find a good woman who’d want me. But Justin… What can I tell you? That apple didn’t fall far from his old man’s tree. Justin liked women. Women liked him. But my niece? I mean… My twenty-year-old niece?”
Lopez sounded extremely offended.
No, he had not confronted Justin. What could he say? Instead, he’d cornered Kate, trying to get her to listen to reason. Justin was married. Justin was never leaving his wife. This whole thing would only end in heartbreak.
Kate hadn’t cared. She was special. She was the one. She just knew it.
Which, slowly but surely, started to piss Lopez off.
“You gotta understand,” he said, “my niece…she may not have a brain in her head, but she’s sweet. She’s trusting. She’s not looking at Justin the same way he’s looking at her. He’s twice her age and twenty times more experienced. For him, having his cake and eating it, too, is more than a lifestyle choice, it’s gene pool. Like a fucking family legacy.”
This caught Tessa’s attention. “You mean, Justin cheated on his wife the way Justin’s father used to cheat on his mother?”
“Yeah, and being the other woman was no great shakes in Dale’s world, either. Just ask Anita Bennett.”
“What?”
Tessa stared at Chris Lopez. She noticed that beside her, Wyatt appeared faintly smug.
“Anita’s youngest kid,” Lopez extrapolated. “You know, the son who doesn’t look anything like Anita’s husband but could be Justin’s younger brother? The boy who five years back was the recipient of Denbe’s first and only full-ride college scholarship? Come on, you haven’t figured that out yet? I thought everyone in the company knew.”
Tessa composed herself quickly. Of course. Anita Bennett and Justin’s father. Just as Wyatt had predicted. He kicked her lightly under the table. She kicked him back.
“But the thing is,” Lopez was saying, “Justin’s mother was known for being a drunk. Maybe she drove the old man to it; not my place to judge. But Libby? She’s beautiful. She’s talented. She’s gracious. You know how many nights I’ve been to their house? I don’t know. Because it’s been that many. The entire team can be fresh off planes, still coated in mud and reeking of five days on a job site, and Libby will welcome us through her doors. How are you, nice to see you, how’s the build, how’s the family, how’s the kids. Hey, who needs a beer, or boys, are we drinking wine tonight?
“That’s Libby. He doesn’t fucking deserve her.”
Tessa had stopped petting the dog. She was too busy staring at Lopez, who was obviously madly in love with his boss’s wife.
Well, well, well.
“Is that why you decided to text her?” she asked quietly. “You thought she deserved to know the truth?”
“Yeah. I just…couldn’t take it anymore. It was only a matter of time before Justin broke Kate’s heart. Figured it was only fair to mess with him first.”
“Did it work?”
“Libby booted his sorry ass,” Lopez said, but he didn’t sound convinced. His gaze dropped. He scuffed his foot against the subflooring.
“Justin never found out I dropped the dime,” he said. “Best I can tell, he thought Libby had finally gotten suspicious, checked his cell. He and Kate had been texting. Stupid thing to do, and he knew it. There was a big scene. Yelling, screaming, drama. He got to move to the basement.”
“He told you that,” Wyatt pressed quietly, “or Libby told you that?”
“He did. Libby didn’t know I was even part of this. I bought a TracFone to text her. Hell, just because I was ruining their marriage didn’t mean I wanted to be part of it.” His lips twisted dryly.
“But Justin talked to you about the home situation?” Wyatt said.
“Yeah. To the whole team. It was clear something had happened. Justin showed up the Monday afterward, totally off his game. I mean, it’s funny. When it comes to women, he’s always been so…slick. I guess I didn’t even take his marriage that seriously. But when the shit hit the fan… The dude actually appeared remorseful. Claimed he’d been a total idiot, no better than his old man, but now he’d seen the light and would do anything to get his wife back.”
“Did he?” Tessa asked.
“He dumped my niece,” Lopez said flatly. “Like a hot potato. And trust me, that I got to hear about. She called me five, six, seven times a day, crying hysterically, demanding to know what she should do, how to win him back. Christ. I had to start turning off my cell just to go to work. I’m lucky she didn’t rat me out.”
“How do you know she didn’t?” Wyatt again.
“Justin would’ve confronted me. He’s not a beat-around-the-bush sort of guy. He’s got a problem with you, you know it. No stabbing in the back. Just a direct hit, full-on to the jugular.”
“Did Kate get him back, or did the relationship truly end?” Tessa asked, because based on her conversation with Kathryn Chapman, she wasn’t convinced the girl was totally forthcoming. Some things, at least, had remained unsaid.
“Best I know, over and done with.”
“Bet she must’ve had some opinions about the wife,” Wyatt commented. “Not easy to lose your first big love like that.”
“Oh, leave Katie out of this. She’s just a stupid kid. Trust me, she wised up soon enough. Probably tried a couple of foolish stunts to get Justin’s attention, and when he knocked her back down, took the hint. It was June when this whole thing blew up. And trust me, my sister can tell you, Katie spent most of the month sobbing in her room. But by July, not so much so. And August… She’ll have a new boyfriend, soon enough. She’s a pretty girl, and getting smarter all the time.”
“You think she ever went after Libby?” Tessa asked.
“Not that I ever heard.”
“And Libby, did she track down Kate?”
“Not that I ever heard.”
“What about a divorce lawyer?” Wyatt spoke up. “Did things get that far, for either him, or her?”
Chris Lopez looked up at them. He suddenly smirked. “You don’t know, do you?”
They didn’t answer.
He leaned forward, crossed his arms on the table. “I can’t tell you if Libby actually called a lawyer, but I can tell you what would happen if she did.”
“Enlighten us,” Tessa said.
“Prenup. Justin’s bragged about it several times. A simple one-page document that Libby readily signed. In it, she renounced all claim to any share of Denbe Construction, in return for being entitled to fifty percent of any and all personal assets accrued during her marriage. Sounds reasonable enough, right? Company was Justin’s to begin with, inherited straight from his father. Except, then you get to the fine print, which is…”
He paused a beat, eyed them expectantly.
Tessa got it first. It gave her claim to the crime scene after all. “There are no personal assets,” she murmured. “He runs everything through the company.”
“Ding, ding, ding, give the woman a prize. The Boston town house, the cottage on the Cape, the cars, the furniture, all held by Denbe Construction. Even Justin’s year-end bonus, he graciously declines, leaving it in the corporation as cash reserves. If Libby left Justin, she would be entitled to half of exactly zero. I’m telling you, this is Justin’s thing, Mr. Benevolent Dictator. Promises his wife he’ll always love her—here’s a five-million-dollar town house. Promises his employees he’ll always take care of us—I’m not even gonna take my bonus, but leave it in the company. But really, he’s only looking out for himself. As both my niece and Libby got to find out the hard way.”
TESSA AND WYATT DANCED AROUND WITH LOPEZ for another thirty minutes. What had he been doing on Friday night?
“Local bar. Circulate my photo; at least half a dozen regulars will confirm I was there.”
Last time he saw Libby and/or Ashlyn Denbe?
“I’m telling you, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Just because I got a beef with how my boss handles women doesn’t mean I’d harm a hair on his head.”
But he had access to the security code for the Denbes’ residence.
“Sure. All of us on the build team know it. Justin isn’t the most organized guy in the world, and sometimes he’d have us pick up a few last-minute things. If Libby was around, she’d feed you a cookie. I’m telling you, Justin deserves to be knocked down a peg or two. But not his family.”
And Ashlyn?
Lopez’s face had turned red. “I’m not talking about her! I can’t even think about her. Assaulted in her own home… You want to save the legal system some dough? When you find out who did this, just say the word and me and the guys will take care of the rest.”
Using the skills he’d learned as an army ranger? Probably had some contacts, too, the kinds of guys who’d know how to quietly break into a house and quickly subdue a grown man and his wife and daughter?
“I’m fifteen years out. The guys I know are either picking sand from their teeth, having been called up from the reserves, or are finally being cut loose because they now dive for cover every time a car backfires. The first group of guys is deployed too far away. The second group is too drunk. You want to make some headway, go hound Anita Bennett. Now, there’s a woman who has reason to eliminate the entire family. Starting with the fact that it would make her own child the sole surviving Denbe male. Don’t royals do that sort of thing all the time? Why not big business? Hell, we’re talking a hundred-million-dollar corporation. Some imperial inheritances have gotta be smaller than that.”
“We’ll take that under advisement,” Tessa assured him. She glanced over at Wyatt, who’d returned to perusing the evidence log. When he didn’t offer up any more questions, she pushed back her chair. They’d learned as much as they were going to learn, she judged. At least until they had time to research the pieces of Lopez’s latest story and push back harder. For now, however, probably best to hit the road.
The old black Lab had curled up at her feet. Now he stood to his feet with a giant yawn. She gave him a final pat on the head, feeling an unexpected pang. She liked his company. Thought Sophie would like his company. Something to consider, getting a dog. Then maybe, both she and her daughter would finally sleep through the night.
Lopez escorted her and Wyatt back to the front door. The conversation had clearly agitated him. Tessa just couldn’t decide whether he was frustrated they didn’t magically accept his claims of innocence, or nervous that they were still poking around.
Wyatt had been right about two things: Anita Bennett had been involved with Justin’s father. And, yes, the whole crew seemed to be a bunch of liars.
Wyatt waited until they were around the corner to start speaking. Tessa had assumed his first words would be I told you so, so he startled her by declaring:
“I think you’re on to something.”
“Me? You’re the one who caught Anita’s personal relationship with Denbe, senior.”
“Which is interesting if the rumors about her youngest son are true. But you got me thinking about Justin’s affair. After all, the Anita Bennett, Dale Denbe thing is at least twenty years old. Whereas the biggest recent stressor for Justin and Libby has been his involvement with Kathryn Chapman.”
“Which Libby found out about six months ago,” Tessa countered.
“Because one of Justin’s own guys decided to rat him out,” Wyatt filled in.
“Except it doesn’t sound like the marriage is necessarily over. We’re hearing more stories of date night than divorce lawyers.”
“Maybe Libby isn’t as naive as Lopez thinks. Maybe she looked up the prenup, did a little digging and realized just how financially devastating divorce would be.”
“So she arranged for them all to be kidnapped?” Tessa wasn’t following.
“I’m not saying the affair led directly to the kidnapping. I’m wondering if the fallout from the affair didn’t put things in play for Friday night.”
“Such as?” They’d arrived at her car.
“Well, we got Lopez, Justin’s second in command, looking at his boss with fresh, angry eyes. Combine that with maybe disgruntlement over the direction things are going at the company level and…”
“Then there’s Anita Bennett,” Tessa picked up. “She was once the other woman, even, possibly had a son. Got her nowhere. Now Justin is engaging in similar behavior, perhaps aggravating old wounds, new prejudices.”
“Then we got Libby, doping herself up with Vicodin to cover her pain. And maybe engaging in other new behaviors as well.” Wyatt slid into the passenger seat, holding up the evidence log. “While you and Lopez wrapped up your tango, I finished reviewing the inventory list for the trash recovered from the Denbes’ brownstone. Garage bin. Item thirty-six down. Best guess, based on trash pickup, is that the contents are no more than two days old.”
Wyatt pointed. Tessa peeked.
“A pregnancy test? A positive home pregnancy test?”
“Yep. Question is, does Justin Denbe know he’s a father again? Or…is he?”