Page 5 of Silent Past
Gabriel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. "It should. He was one of the most respected deputies in the department back in the day. Worked Internal Affairs for a while—he hired me, actually." He grunted, and a small smile creased his lips. "Used to call me 'the Pitbull' because I'd get a hold of something and never let go. Seems a bit ironic in retrospect, though."
He fell silent for a few moments.
"Anyway," he went on, "he retired about five years before your mom… before she died. Why? What's he got to do with this?"
Sheila’s stomach churned as she studied the file. "There’s a memo here linking him to an offshore account. Looks like he’s been getting payments from…"—she scanned the documents more closely—"a company called Meridian Holdings."
Gabriel leaned over to look at the memo. "You're sure? Meridian Holdings?"
"Have you heard of it?"
"It's a shell company. The kind people use to launder dirty money."
"And you know about it because…?"
"It’s been tied to a lot of high-profile cases." He shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe Carlton Vance is tied up in this. He could be secretive, sure, but I had no idea…" He trailed off, as if walking down the halls of memory.
Sheila traced the notes in the margins with her finger. "You think Carlton Vance sent Eddie Mills to kill Mom?"
"A week ago, I'd have said no way in hell. But now…" He paused, thinking. "If he didn't send Mills, then he very well may know who did. Getting him to admit it, though, could be difficult."
Sheila clenched her jaw. "He'll talk. One way or another. Where does he live?"
"Used to have a place out on Westwood. Don't know if he's still there."
"Well, then, we'd better go find out."
CHAPTER TWO
The truck's headlights illuminated a row of mailboxes along Westwood Drive. Gabriel slowed as they approached each driveway, his eyes scanning the numbers. When they reached 1437, he pulled over without hesitation.
"This is it," he said quietly.
Sheila studied the darkened house set back from the road. A "FOR SALE" sign stood in the overgrown yard, its post tilting slightly to one side. Through the bare branches of a maple tree, Sheila could see sheets draped over furniture in the front room.
Sheila's heart sank—it was looking less and less likely they'd find Vance here. "You sure this is the house?" she asked.
"I remember the house number." Gabriel shifted in his seat. "Used to come here sometimes. Department meetings."
Something in his tone made Sheila glance at him. Her father was staring at the house with an odd expression, one she couldn't quite read in the dim light. "Just department meetings?"
"What else would it be?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
Gabriel's jaw tightened. "There's nothing to tell."
She wanted to press further, but years of experience had taught her when her father's walls were up, they stayed up. Still, the way he avoided her gaze told her there was more to the story of his relationship with Carlton Vance than he was sharing, which made her very uneasy.
The empty house stood silent and dark. Dead leaves had collected in drifts against the foundation, and the lawn needed mowing. The realtor's lockbox hung prominently on the front door handle. No lights shone in any of the windows, and the driveway was empty except for a few scattered pine needles.
"Looks like Vance cleared out," Sheila said. "But maybe he left something behind."
She reached for the door handle, but Gabriel's hand shot out, gripping her arm. "Wait." His voice was low, urgent. "Before we do this, you need to understand something."
"What?"
"If we find anything connecting him to your mother's murder, there's no going back. These people, they won't just roll over because we have evidence. They'll fight back hard. You ready for that?"
