“And that’s why you’re mad.”
“I couldn’t care less if the feds take over the drug charges. But one of our suspects may have killed Jason Hoffman. I had my shot today and that’s it. The feds know it’s a concern, but they’re not going to care like I do. I want Jason’s killer to go to prison for the rest of his—or her—life. And now—I just don’t think I can do that.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said.
Nick stared at her. “You don’t seem to be the type of woman to say she’s sorry about anything.”
“I’m usually not. But I understand how important it is to you to see justice done.”
“You’re a piece of work, Revere. You can relax there in your hot, bubbling water and lie to me. You’re not sorry. Not at all.”
Through clenched teeth she said, “Don’t tell me what I am.”
“I know what you are. You’re a ruthless, reckless, story-chasing reporter who doesn’t care whether she screws a major case, as long as you get the byline. Or the face time. But you’re good.”
“Yes, I am.” She was on the defensive, but she wasn’t going to let him see it.
He smiled, but it was cold. He rose from the chair and towered over her.
“You had me sucked in. Yesterday, I was willing to work with you. I saw something in you Saturday night…” His voice trailed off and then he shook his head. “What was I thinking? I know better than to trust a reporter. Especially one like you.”
He started to walk away. Then he turned back and said, “If Jason Hoffman’s killer goes free, it’s on you. Tell that to your viewers.”
Max watched Nick leave, seething. He had no idea who she was or why she chose this life. Did he think she was a reporter for the fun and glamour? Hardly. It was damn hard work, often unrewarding. But when her efforts paid off and the truth was set free, all the disappointments disappeared.
She wasn’t going to explain herself to someone who had already judged her.
Max closed her eyes and leaned back into the hot water, but the tension had returned and turning into a human prune wasn’t going to fix anything.
It would have been a hell of a lot easier to accept Nick’s tirade if she didn’t already like Detective Santini.
Chapter Seventeen
Lindy’s father, Gerald Ames, was a businessman with an office in Silicon Valley. When they were kids, neither Lindy nor Max really knew what Gerald did for a living or how he made his money, but he went to the office every day and he brought home a substantial income. Now Max understood that he was the business end for a major computer software company and traveled all over the world brokering agreements with countries and corporations. But it was really his stocks, investments, and shares in the company that gave him his sizable wealth.
Max knew that Mr. Ames would never agree to meet with her, especially in light of her confrontation with Kimberly on Saturday night. She didn’t particularly want to be tossed from his office building by security. She couldn’t access the secure employee parking lot with her car, but walking in proved to be easy. There she stood under one of the cameras near the elevator and hoped she wasn’t visible at the guard station. Considering no one came and arrested her the ten minutes she waited, she was in the clear. It helped that she’d dressed like a businesswoman—she’d bought the suit the night before at Macy’s. The fight with Nick Santini had put her in a rotten mood; an evening shopping spree perked her right back up.
It was amazing what new clothes and shoes did for her attitude.
Mr. Ames’s cherry red convertible BMW pulled into his assigned parking place a few spaces away from Max.
He looked far older than he had at Kevin’s trial, which was the last time Max had seen him in person. He didn’t recognize her until he was only a few feet away.
“Maxine,” he said in surprise.
“Hello, Mr. Ames. May I have a moment of your time?”
“I’m not going to talk to you.”
“But you can threaten me?”
He gave her a look of such shock that she knew immediately that he wasn’t the person behind the threatening phone call over the weekend.
“I’ve never threatened you, Maxine. You and Lindy were friends, and I dismissed your loyalty to the boy who killed her as youth and inexperience. I forgive you, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“I’m not.” But it felt surprising good to know he didn’t harbor resentment. Or so he said. “I think we’ve both been used, Mr. Ames.”
Mr. Ames sighed. “Because Lindy always admired you, I will give you ten minutes. But that’s it. And nothing I say can be used directly or indirectly in the media.”
“I’m not doing a story,” she said. She would have said more, but she was stunned with his belief that Lindy somehow looked up to her. Yes, they’d been friends, but Lindy never looked up to anyone. In her eyes, no one was better than she was. It wasn’t just narcissism that had made Lindy so arrogant; it was the people who’d disappointed her.
As Max once told her, if she looked for secrets, she would find them, and they couldn’t be unfound.
The only person Lindy had ever truly loved and respected was her father.
They rode up the private elevator to the top floor of the twenty-story glass building. The silence was welcome; Max had to change gears now that she knew Mr. Ames wasn’t behind the phone call. She was also relieved that he seemed to want to talk about Lindy. Everywhere she went, it was always Kevin’s guilt or innocence that was debated, never Lindy’s final moments. Max didn’t even know the truth about her death because she still hadn’t received all the files from the Menlo Park PD or Kevin’s attorney. That was, in part, her fault because she’d spent yesterday following the lead in Jason Hoffman’s murder. Today would be different.