“No, sorry.”
“Thank you.” Max put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, collected her drink, and sat down at one of the tables where she could watch the door.
A text message from David popped up.
Evergreen was on the verge of bankruptcy before Jasper Pierce put together the deal with Archer Sterling and Cho Architectural. There was no bidding process—seems odd.
Definitely worth noting. And based on what Uncle Archer said tonight, the whole idea was Jasper Pierce’s. Archer was just the money guy. She needed to talk to Pierce—there might not be anything to the story, or there might be a secret worth killing to keep. She’d seen it far too many times to make the motive original.
She sent David a note about what Dru had told her over the phone and that she was meeting her at Starbucks.
She tried Dru’s cell phone. It rang five times, then voice mail picked up. Max didn’t leave a message.
Her phone rang almost immediately. She thought it was Dru; caller ID told her it was David.
“Hello, dear,” she teased.
“I looked into the Parker girl, too, after you sent me her last name. Parents divorced. One older sister named Gina who lives in L.A. She lives with two other college girls, all working part time and going to school part time. I’ll send you her address and the names of her roommates.”
“Thanks.”
“One interesting thing I learned—her car is registered to a business, DL Environmental.”
“Never heard of them.”
“They have a Web site. Not much on it. Pictures of college-aged kids protesting this and that.” She could practically hear the eye roll in his voice.
“If you have time tonight, see if you can dig into them a little deeper.” She stepped outside of the coffee house and looked around the parking lot. She didn’t see Dru’s bright yellow VW parked anywhere. Damn, had she really left to stay with her mother? Was she now avoiding Max’s calls because she changed her mind?
She asked, “Anything about Roger Lawrence?”
“He’s been with Evergreen for over fifteen years. Married twenty years. Two kids, both in high school. Nothing that seems out of place. Doesn’t live above his means.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re skeptical?”
“Curious.” Max saw a sign that indicated there was underground parking. “Okay, you’re officially off duty, Kane. If I hear from you again, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me.”
“I can make your life a living hell.”
He laughed, then said, “Watch your back with Parker.”
“Yes, sir.”
Max hung up and tossed her empty cup in a nearby trash can as she approached the parking lot stairwell. It was well lit and there were security cameras on the door. She went down the stairs. The lot, primarily for Caltrains parking, was built under a discount drugstore. She immediately spotted Dru’s car next to the stairwell, where most of the cars were clustered.
Dru wasn’t in it.
Inside the car was a half-empty Starbucks cup, the ice still solid.
Dru had ordered her drink then what—gone to her car to wait? Why park down here? Max could think of one good reason—if Dru really was scared of someone, her car stood out. Parking down here would minimize being seen.
Caltrains parking. Dammit, she must have left on a train. Max pulled out her phone to find the train schedule. She hadn’t heard one since she pulled into the parking lot twelve minutes ago.
There was no train scheduled until after nine that evening; it was eight thirty now. Max walked around Dru’s car and looked in the back. There was a suitcase on the backseat.
The hair on her arms rose. Car, suitcase, melting drink—no girl. She dialed Dru’s cell phone again.
She heard a musical chime three cars over.
Max took out the stun gun she had carried with her since college. Not the exact same Taser, she’d upgraded, but it was the only weapon she’d ever felt comfortable carrying. She’d only used it once before, but she wouldn’t hesitate if she had cause.
She saw the blood before she saw Dru’s body, lying between two parked cars. Before she could check her pulse, headlights flashed bright and tires squealed from a car parked directly opposite her.
Max had little time to react. She could see nothing, blinded by the high beams, but while she jumped between the two cars where Dru’s body lay dying, she tried to picture the car. Dark. Tinted windows. Four-door sedan.
The sedan turned rapidly to avoid a collision, but fishtailed and the rear driver’s side hit the back of one of the parked cars. Max ducked, in case the driver had a gun. She peered carefully over the trunk of the vehicle, blinking rapidly to get rid of the flashes of light the high beams left in her eyes. She couldn’t make out more than a B and 8 or 3 in the license plate, and even then she wasn’t 100 percent certain she read it right. The attacker drove rapidly out of the parking garage.
Heart pounding heavily in her chest, Max leaned over Dru and felt for a pulse. She had one. Max pulled out her cell phone to call 911, then put the phone on speaker. Carefully, she turned Dru from her side to her back to find out where all this blood was coming from. The girl moaned, but didn’t regain consciousness. Blood had soaked her T-shirt, but it seemed to be coming from her lower abdomen. Max took off her scarf, wadded it up, and applied pressure on Dru’s stomach while talking to the dispatcher, identifying herself and telling her to send an ambulance and the police.
“Dammit, Dru, why’d you park down here? What were you thinking?” Max muttered.
“Ms. Revere? I missed that.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Max told the dispatcher.
“Can you apply pressure to the wound?”
“I’m doing that.”
“Is the victim conscious?”
“No.”
“Does she have a pulse?”
“Yes.”