Roger took me up to the sixth floor and unlocked the door to a very ordinary office. Utilitarian and boring were the words that first leaped to my mind. Black and white tile floor, metal desk, a row of metal filing cabinets, and a couple of slightly battered chairs. I had to wonder how successful an accountant and financial advisor he was if this was the best office he could afford. It certainly wasn’t the sort of place I’d want to meet clients. As far as I could tell, Vic Kerry had the only occupied office on this floor. And, I didn’t think the other floors were too much better.

Maybe he’s simply frugal, I thought charitably. On the other hand, the view from his window was nothing short of spectacular. I could see down the entire length of Lake Pearl from here, and with binoculars I thought I’d probably be able to pick out my aunt’s house on the lakefront.

“He has a little home gym set up through there,” Roger said, gesturing to the another door. “Once he started to lose the weight he shelled out some serious bucks for really nice equipment.” He opened the door and flipped on the lights. Still the same ugly tile floor, but this room was packed with weight benches and machines, and the far wall was taken up with a small kitchenette area with refrigerator. I didn’t know a whole lot about exercise equipment, but even I could tell that this was gym-quality stuff—not the kind sold at Walmart. Okay, so maybe he preferred to spend his money on stuff that actually mattered to him.

“Actually, I work out here pretty often,” Roger told me. “I gave Vic a discount on my training fee in exchange for being able to use the equipment here.” He glanced at me with a wry smile. “Sometimes it’s nice to get a totally uninterrupted workout. If I’m at Magnolia I’m kinda always on duty, and I get interrupted all the time by people wanting help or a spot or whatever.”

“Trust me,” I replied, “I totally sympathize with the ‘always on duty’ thing getting old.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I guess cops get it all the time.”

“You know it. So, was Vic dating anyone?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Roger said. “I’m pretty sure he would have mentioned it if he was.”

“What about business dealings? Did he ever talk about that?”

“Um, sure, Vic mentioned some stuff sometimes,” he said. “But he never gave details about the accounts he worked on. He knew his shit, though. He gave me some great advice.”

“What sort of advice?” I asked.

“Investments. That sort of thing.” He gave me a casual shrug that struck me as being a bit too casual. Maybe some of Vic’s advice had been off the mark and Roger had retaliated? Just because Roger was reporting Vic missing didn’t mean that he wasn’t the cause.

I turned back to the front office and went to the desk. Neat and tidy, obsessively so. I riffled through a stack of papers on the desk, but didn’t see anything that leaped out at me as a reason to go missing. No threatening letters from an ex-girlfriend. No blackmail notes.

I sighed and looked out at the view. A few sailboats were making their way across the lake in meandering patterns. I stepped closer to the window then stopped, frowning as a strange sensation rippled over me.

What the hell? I shifted into othersight, shocked as a familiar resonance washed over me. Like the creature that grabbed Lida.

Pulse quickening, I switched back to normal sight, then crouched and peered at the tiled floor. There was dirt there. Not much, but on the pristine floor it was noticeable. I straightened and looked at the window itself.

“Did you find something?” Roger asked.

I glanced back at him. “Do these windows open?”

“Yeah, they prop out,” he said, stepping up to point to the latch mechanism at the bottom.

“This one isn’t latched,” I murmured. Shit. I knew I needed to look, but I didn’t want to. I had a sick and certain feeling that I knew where Vic was.

“Oh, god. Do you think ...” He trailed off.

I took a piece of blank paper from the printer and put it against the window so that I could push it open without marring any possible prints too badly. I peered down, then looked at Roger.

“I think we found your client.”

I removed Roger from the room and secured the door, then parked him in the hallway while I started making calls. My first call was to dispatch, informing them of the situation and requesting a patrol unit to help secure the scene. My second call was to Sarge to let him know that I’d found the missing person—and not in the desired way.

“No such thing as a simple case with you, is there?” he grumbled after I gave him the rundown.

“I’m an overachiever,” I said. “If I give you the particulars, can you get a search warrant for me so that I can go through the office? He’s a financial advisor and I don’t want to get flak later over privacy issues from client information I might run across.”

“Always safer to get the warrant,” Crawford agreed. “Text me the details.”

I hung up with him and thumbed in the pertinent info, grateful that I had a sergeant willing to dig in and help with stuff like this. It was a basic boilerplate warrant, but if I had to take care of it myself it would be hours, since I’d have to wait for the scene to be secured and processed before I could leave to type it up and hunt down a judge.

Roger hadn’t moved the entire time I’d been on the phone. He wasn’t freaking out or falling apart, but he did appear stunned. It didn’t take much urging from me to get him to come downstairs. Fortunately, the body was deeply hidden in the bushes at the base of the building, so I wasn’t too worried that anyone would disturb it while I waited for the patrol unit to arrive and get the area properly cordoned off. Right now I was more interested in watching Roger’s reaction. I was convinced that Lida Moran had been attacked by the same sort of creature that had apparently tossed Vic out a window, and Roger Peeler was a big glowing link between the two incidents.

“I never thought Vic was the type to kill himself,” he said in a rough voice, eyes hollow. He leaned up against the wall, looking stricken.

I knew that wasn’t what had happened, but I figured I’d go along with that for a while to see what I could get out of Roger. “Well, you said yourself that he didn’t have much family. Maybe he got tired of being lonely?” I offered, keeping my tone gentle.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I ... I guess. But he had lots of friends. He was a super nice guy.” He looked up at me. “Look, I can’t see him committing suicide. His dad killed himself and Vic used to go on and on about how selfish and vicious suicide was to everyone left behind.”

Well, that wasn’t quite the response I’d have expected from someone who might have wanted to stage a murder as a suicide.

“All right,” I said. “Had he mentioned anything about arguments or bad business deals he’d made recently?”

Roger shook his head slowly. “No. He was such a nice guy. Everyone liked him. He got along with everybody.”

I nodded in response, but I remained skeptical. Nobody got along with everybody.

The marked unit pulled up then and I excused myself from Roger for a few minutes to get the scene secured. As soon as the tape was up and the crime scene log started I returned to Roger. He didn’t look as if he’d moved—he was still in a stunned daze.

“Roger, I’m going to need to talk to you more a bit later, but for now you’re free to leave. Are you all right to drive?

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath and straightened. “You’ll let me know what you find out?” The expression on his face was pleading.

“I promise,” I said, then watched as he returned to his car, those wide shoulders seemingly crushed under a great weight. If he’s responsible, then he’s also a fucking good actor, I thought. I wasn’t going to dismiss him entirely as a suspect, because I’d definitely been snowed before, but my gut instinct was leaning pretty far away from him at the moment. But if he’s not the link, then what is?