“I don’t know, maybe.” Yes, but Lucy didn’t say it. It was important because she needed to know everything Danielle Sharpe knew about her son’s murder. To lose a child to violence was awful, but what had turned her into a killer? “Did you learn anything about Danielle’s family? Her parents?”
“That’s been more difficult. During the investigation, her mother was quoted in one of the papers—Natalie Hoover of Orlando. Big city, common name, we haven’t found her yet. And that was nearly twenty-five years ago. She could have died, been remarried—”
“I get it. It might not be important. What about her ex-husband?”
“More there—Richard Collins moved to Denver a year after the divorce was finalized. Remarried, though I don’t know when. He and his wife bought a house fifteen years ago in a Denver suburb. Property records have them still owning it.”
Lucy’s gut twisted. “Kids?” Danielle would certainly go after Richard Collins’s kids.
“His new wife has two kids from her first marriage, both now adults.”
“We need to talk to him. You have his contact information?”
“Yes, but this is the one time I’m going to suggest that you’re better suited to make this contact. He has no reason to talk to a reporter, and you have the authority to compel him to talk.”
“I have no authority.”
“All you have to say is you’re an FBI agent investigating a crime.”
Max was right—it wasn’t an outright lie, but it was deceptive. Still, this was the closest they’d gotten to Danielle Sharpe.
The woman who killed Justin.
“Let me think about how to approach him. We may want to see how it goes, work together to get the information we need. I’ll be back at the hotel in ten minutes.”
*
Max didn’t like eating in her room, but the suite at the US Grant was spacious, and there was a separate dining area, so she didn’t feel like she was eating in bed. She had room service bring up a nice buffet of food and extra coffee. It was ready before Lucy returned.
David walked in in his typical pressed polo shirt and slacks. He took one look at the food and said, “Are you having a party?”
“We have work to do. Any word from Ben about Danielle Sharpe’s current location or employer?”
“I’m supposed to tell you that they worked all night to track down the information about Richard Collins and his son and you can go to hell.”
“And?”
“They’re working on it.”
She knew she was asking a lot of her staff, but she constantly rewarded them.
“Ben wants to know when you’re going to let him hire you an assistant.”
“You’re my assistant.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did. She had gone through a half-dozen assistants during the first two years she’d been with NET. Then she found one she liked, but Riley left after six weeks. Max had been trying to entice her back—Riley had so much potential. But she’d also nearly been killed during one of Max’s investigations. Max had gone to visit her in Boston and while Riley spoke to her—a first since she left—she said that investigative reporting wasn’t her “thing.” Whatever that meant. Even though Max insisted that danger was rare, Riley didn’t budge.
“I’ll think about it,” Max said.
“Office staff. Not field staff.”
“I said I’ll think about it.”
She was getting testy, and she knew both David and Ben were frustrated that she refused to bring on anyone else. But what happened with Riley had affected her. Max was willing to risk her own life—and even David, because he was trained for it—but she’d unwittingly risked Riley’s life. It didn’t matter that Riley had gone off on her own, she’d done it because she thought that’s what Max would have wanted. Having that kind of influence over a young, impressionable reporter made Max nervous.
Lucy was more than ten minutes, but Max didn’t say anything. She looked like she’d had about as little sleep as Max, but without Max’s skill of hiding her fatigue with makeup.
“I ordered up extra coffee,” Max said.
“I need it.” Lucy walked over to the small buffet and seemed surprised. “Coffee and breakfast.”
“Hope you didn’t eat yet.”
“No, thank you for thinking of it.”
Lucy poured coffee and dished up a small plate of food. She looked preoccupied.
“Bad news?” Max asked.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re a million miles away.”
“Thinking.”
“About?”
Lucy sipped her coffee and sat down at the conference table. “Whether Richard Collins has any loyalties to his wife. Whether he’s still in contact with her, and whether he’ll call her as soon as I hang up.”
Max had to admit, she hadn’t thought of that. But she wasn’t a cop—she was all about information.
“Would that be a problem?”
“Yes. We have no probable cause to detain Danielle Sharpe. If he alerts her, she could disappear.”
“Not easy to do. She hasn’t changed her name—she may not be able to up and disappear.”
“We don’t know that she hasn’t changed her name, but I agree, it’s likely she’s still using the name because of her work history. Still, just because she worked for three people who all lost a son while she was there is still circumstantial. A good lawyer would stonewall a police investigation, and Sharpe has gotten away with murder for twenty years. She has an exit plan. I want to take the direct approach, and honestly over the phone isn’t going to work.”
“You want to hop a plane to Denver?”
“Yes. I know it’s asking a lot, but in my experience, face-to-face is the only way we’re going to get answers. I spoke to Sean, and he says he could fly us, but it would take him a few hours to get down here, and I had a feeling he was still working.”
“Don’t worry about the plane, I’ll get us there.” She looked at David and he picked up the phone. “Did you think I wouldn’t like the idea?” Max poured fresh coffee. “I much prefer face-to-face interviews. It’s easier to know if someone is lying.”
Lucy smiled. “We agree.”
“But we’re not going unless I can confirm he’s there—David is working on it now.”
Lucy excused herself—ostensibly to call her husband—and Max waited until David was off the phone. “I have a local PI checking out the Collinses’ residence, he’ll get back to us within an hour. In the meantime, I have reservations on a twelve thirty flight, which only gives us two hours to get to the airport. Puts you in Denver just before four local time. I also got you a driver.”
“I don’t need a driver.”
“You need someone who knows the area and is used to driving in snow.”
“Good point. I’ll pack an overnight bag just in case, but I expect to be back here tonight.”
“It’s snowing. Or were you not listening to me?”
“I still want to come back tonight.”
He sighed. “I have you booked on the last flight out, but don’t blame me if you get stuck at the airport all night.”