“So we could tell your prints from anyone else’s in his office or his apartment. It’s standard procedure. Again, I’m sorry this had to happen tonight, but every hour that passes is an hour his killer goes free.”

Still pale, Louise closed her eyes. “Someone shot him.”

“Yes, ma’am. It looks like he was at his desk, working. He was shot from behind.”

Louise flinched, then snapped her gaze to the door when her son entered. He looked even angrier than his mother had. He folded his mother in his arms and she began to cry again. Seth Tomlinson glared at Olivia. “How dare you?”

“Please,” Olivia said. “Please sit down.”

Still furious, Seth did, taking his mother’s hand protectively. “It’s bad enough we have to go through this.”

“You’re right,” Olivia said and Seth narrowed his eyes.

“You’re the good cop. Where’s the bad cop?”

Olivia returned his furious gaze with a sympathetic one. “Right here in this chair. I can be either or both, depending on who’s sitting in your chair. I need your help.”

“No,” Seth said. “I’m not helping you.”

“You’re entitled to your anger and your frustration. Right now, I need you to be angry at the person who put a bullet in the back of your father’s head. The fire destroyed a lot of the things we’d normally look for-signs of a struggle, for example. Signs that someone forced their way into his office. Did he know his killer? Or was he simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did he keep money in his office?”

Louise shook her head. “No. None of our sales transactions were cash. All of our customers paid by check or bank transfer. Anything Barney had in the office was strictly for personal use, and he was running short. I’d made sure of that.”

“Mom,” Seth said in a low voice, but she patted his arm.

“She’s doing her job, Seth. I imagine she’ll look at my finances to be sure I didn’t hire a hit man.” Louise looked Olivia dead in the eye. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t know how.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olivia said. “You still loved him.”

“Yes. He hurt me, so badly. But I never could have taken his life.”

“Who could have?”

Louise looked lost. “I don’t know. You’d need to talk to Lloyd Hart, our manager. He knew all the customers.”

“I did talk to him, for just a little while. He was pretty worried about his dog.”

“Bruno,” Louise murmured. “Did they hurt the dog, too?”

“Drugged him. There’s a chance he’ll make it. Mr. Hart said that the employees didn’t care for your husband.”

“That’s not true,” Seth bit out, but once again his mother patted his hand.

“Yes, it is.” She turned to Olivia. “It wasn’t always like that. Barney used to know everyone’s name. He made sure everyone had benefits, pensions. As he got more successful, he changed. We had warehouses in three states and he started to travel. Buy fancy cars.” She lifted her chin. “Fancy women, too, even though I didn’t know it then. He wasn’t the man I married anymore. Then business started to go down and Barney got scared. And mean. We were fighting all the time.”

“No, you weren’t,” Seth protested. “Mom.”

“We didn’t fight in front of you. We didn’t want you to know.” She turned to Olivia. “I hadn’t paid attention to the business in a long time. When I found out about Barney’s affair, I made copies of all his files. I wanted my lawyer to have as much ammunition as possible.”

“Do you still have the copied files?” Olivia asked.

“On a couple of CDs, yes.”

“The fire destroyed so much. We could get started so much faster if we knew who to investigate.”

Louise looked at her attorney who gave a little shrug. “It’s up to you, Weez. I’ve seen the files. There isn’t anything on them that you haven’t already told them.”

“They’re in my fire box at home.” Louise’s lips twisted. “Ironic, no?”

Olivia sighed. “We get a lot of sad irony in this business. I know you’re tired, but a few more questions, please. How did you find out about your husband’s infidelity?”

“I hired a private investigator. One of my friends had gone through something similar, so I met her for lunch and somehow found the courage to ask for the name of her PI, and I hired her. She had incriminating photos in less than a week. I was devastated.” She swallowed hard. “I went into Barney’s office the next day when I knew he’d be out playing golf and copied the files. Then I filed for divorce that afternoon.”

Seth was studying his mother’s worn profile. “Can we go now? She’s helped you.”

“Yes, she has and yes, you can go. Mrs. Tomlinson, thank you. I’ll personally keep you updated on the investigation. Can I take you home?”

“I’ll take care of them,” the lawyer said. “You’ll want those CDs tonight, I take it?”

Olivia flicked a glance at the clock on the wall. It was almost three a.m. Surely the warehouse had cooled enough for her and Kane to see Barney in his office now. “That would be ideal. My partner and I will follow you home.” Then she and Kane could double back to the crime scene.

Olivia found Kane in the observation room, a ten-dollar bill in his hand. “Nice.”

“Keep it. She was going to help us all along. You ready to roll?”

“Yep. I’ll drive. You can nap on the way.”

Tuesday, September 21, 3:58 a.m.

The three of them sat in Eric’s living room, watching the muted television. It was tuned to the local twenty-four-hour news station, as it had been for the last day. Mary sat curled in the corner of the sofa, her expression like stone. Albert sat in an armchair, looking like the very angry captain of a starship.

Eric straddled a dining room chair backward, his chin propped on the chair’s carved back, having just been snapped at by Albert to stop pacing and sit his ass down.

“Turn it up,” Mary said flatly and Albert grabbed the remote.

“Top of the news this hour is another fire, this time in a warehouse north of the city,” the anchor said. “News 8 has just learned that not only is it another arson fire, but also police have found another body inside.”

Shock had Eric surging to his feet. “What the fuck?” he yelled.

Albert leaned forward, waving his arm. “Shut up.”

Mary sat up straighter, her expression gone flatter, if that was possible.

“The body has been identified as Barney Tomlinson, the owner of the warehouse,” the anchor said, and a photo of a middle-aged man with a comb-over appeared on screen. “We have Joseph Bradshaw live at the scene. Joseph, what are you hearing?”

The screen switched to the reporter, a fire truck in the background. “The fire is out, but the activity here at the fire site has not slowed. Homicide detectives and medical examiners went into the building twenty minutes ago and have not yet come out. No one is giving any details of the circumstances surrounding Barney Tomlinson’s death, but the presence of Homicide suggests the owner of this warehouse met with foul play.”

“Joseph,” the anchor said, “is anyone indicating a link to the condo fire?”

“Not yet, but the homicide detectives who just went in are the same ones who were on the condo scene-Kane and Sutherland.”

Albert muted the television. “So this is his game,” he said darkly. “He murders and sets us up to take the fall.”

“We destroyed the tape,” Eric said. “We wore masks. Nobody will know it was us.”

Albert’s chuckle was without mirth. “Do you truly think so, mon ami? I give him five minutes, perhaps ten. He’ll send you another text with another link to another video.”

It was less than two minutes. Eric’s personal cell phone buzzed. He checked the text and flicked a glance at Albert. “It says ‘welcome to my employ.’”

“And the video?” Mary asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Eric clicked the link. “It’s us,” he said when the video began playing. “We’re wearing masks.” He watched as the texter’s camera closed in on Mary as she looked back to check on the drugged dog. Then the screen filled with a still shot of Mary’s face, covered by the mask. Successive shots closed in on Mary’s right eye until her iris was all that could be seen, then the video cut to a picture of Mary at the condo. Again the camera closed in, again the close-up of her iris.