TWENTY-SEVEN
Amanda called Judge Anderson for verbal approval to collect Alicia’s laptop while Trent drove them to Tony’s house. When she hung up, Trent didn’t say a word, but she could feel that he wanted to. Either that or she was judging herself.
“Spill it. Something’s on your mind.” She wasn’t sure why she was encouraging him to speak because she was quite certain she didn’t want to hear what he had to say.
“The unexplained discrepancy with the pentobarbital inventory.”
“As of yet unexplained discrepancy.”
“You can’t just ignore that it’s very possible Tony got his hands on it.”
“From a locked room and a secured cabinet.” She heard herself sweeping in to defend Tony when he hadn’t earned that loyalty—not by a long shot. First by withdrawing from her life and then failing to mention important information that might have moved the investigation along more quickly. That might have even prevented Eve’s death.
“Yeah. A room and a cabinet only his daughter and son-in-law have a passcode for, which he could have gotten his hands on.”
“Could have. We’ll wait to hear from Bethany.”
“We need to ask Tony about it when we’re there.”
“We will,” she shoved out.
“Can I say something and not have you jump down my throat?” Trent looked over at her.
No promises… She shuffled toward the car door, eager to put more space between them. “What?”
Trent seemed to hesitate but eventually said, “Just be careful not to let your past friendship with Tony Bishop blind you.”
Anger flushed through her. He was treating her like she was inept and incapable of being objective. “We’re going to have a talk with him right now. And I just got approval to collect Alicia’s laptop.” She tried to keep her tone even but wasn’t sure how well she’d pulled it off.
“Yeah, I know.” He held eye contact for a second longer before putting his focus back on the road.
He pulled into the driveway, and the two of them got out of the car. This was her third time here in less than a week, and from a tough start, the visits were getting progressively more difficult. Today, she couldn’t dance around a thing. Tony had some tough questions to answer. And she had to be prepared that she might not like what he had to say.
The door opened before she or Trent had a chance to knock or ring the doorbell. This time, Brad Slater looked like he was getting ready to go out. He was wearing blue jeans, a crisply ironed dress shirt, the top three buttons undone, and black running shoes.
“Looks like someone is going out.” Amanda smiled at him.
“Yeah, was about to.” He stepped back to allow Amanda and Trent into the house. Brad went on. “Rachel is here. We’re going out for dinner, taking Leo with us.”
It must have been someplace rather nice, judging by Brad’s attire. But it did strike her a little odd he’d be going out in public so soon after his mother’s death. To each their own when it comes to grief, though. “And Rachel is?”
“My girlfriend. I wanted to introduce her to Mom…” His voice turned gravelly. “They never had the chance to meet. Guess they never will now.”
“Hey—” A young woman with blond straight hair joined them in the entry, Leo sticking close to her. She stopped talking at the sight of Amanda and Trent.
“Rachel?” Amanda said.
“Yeah?” she dragged out.
“This is Detective Steele and Detective Stenson,” Brad said. “They’re in charge of investigating Mom’s murder.”
“You two go to school together?” Amanda asked.
“Ah, yeah.” Rachel stuffed her hands in her back pockets, swayed, appearing uncomfortable. Amanda appreciated that the situation could be awkward for her. She might be shy too.
“Well, Brad just told us you were on the way out. We don’t want to hold you up.” Amanda turned her attention to Brad. “We’d like to speak with Tony, though. He’s home?”
“Yeah, I’ll get him.” Brad walked away and could be heard bounding up the stairs.
Rachel went to the closet near the door and pulled out a lightweight blue jacket. “Do you know who did this yet?” Rachel asked, zipping up her coat, her fingertips grazing over a gold pin with the embossed letters MWHC. Amanda wasn’t sure what it stood for, but didn’t think it worthwhile asking—the girl did seem shy.
Amanda shook her head. “Not yet, unfortunately.”
Brad returned, jogging toward them. “Tony will be down in a sec. Go ahead and make yourselves comfortable in the sitting room. We just have to get going. We have a reservation for five thirty.”
It was after five when they’d arrived. “Sure. Go ahead. Thanks.”
The trio left, Brad waving a hand overhead as he walked away.
Amanda and Trent went to the sitting area, dropping down on the dark-gray couch.
“Would you prefer I handle this?” Trent asked her, keeping his voice low.
She shook her head. “I’ll be all right to take the lead, but feel free to ask a question if you think of one.”
Trent nodded, not getting the chance to verbally respond. Tony was walking toward them with wet hair and smelling of a heady cologne. He must have been fresh out of the shower.
“Do you have news?” Tony took his gaze from Trent and rested it on Amanda. She didn’t miss how the attention seemed to settle on her shoulders with the weight of responsibility—her badge, their old friendship.
“Pentobarbital poisoning was confirmed as the cause of your wife’s death.” She thought it best to start on more neutral territory and work her way up to the half-truths and omissions.
Tony stumbled to the couch and dropped, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He put his face into his palms and wept.
Amanda’s heart ached. The response was so unexpected and raw.
She gave it a few beats, let him cry. Then said, “We’re very sorry for your loss.” The shallowness of the words, the inability to do anything helpful, chastised her. How she had hated hearing it when she’d been grieving her family. But the sentiment was one she doled out often with this job. She always meant it, but this time, pain burrowed deep within her. “I know there’s nothing that can be said or—”
He lowered his hands and lifted his face. “You can find who did this to her.”
“There are some questions we need answered.” She heard the grim nature of her statement, but it couldn’t be helped. There’d be no mask for the seriousness of the conversation they needed to have.
Tony waved a hand as if to give her the go-ahead. His eyes were glazed over, and he appeared numb. Amanda recalled that feeling too well. She also lived through it at times with Zoe, when the girl was haunted by memories of her parents’ murders.
“We spoke with Leo’s father.” She figured she’d start there, considering she’d just seen the boy.
“Seth Rossi. What about him?”