Poisonous: A Novel (7 page)

“I have some insight into the situation that may be useful.”

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but David’s body language said he didn’t want to talk about it further. Until she finalized the details, she decided not to bring up her plan to drive to Stanford for a sit-down with Heather Brock’s brother, Justin.

David added, “You’re cutting it close if you expect to get the segment on the show this Thursday. You don’t even have a crew.”

“I don’t need one right now. And later Ben can send Charlie Morelli; he’s the best and has a relationship with the San Francisco people. He can work through all the satellite and tech and editing stuff.”

“Stuff?” David’s lips curved up. “For a writer, that’s a vague word.”

“Half a glass of wine and you think you can tease me? Sheesh, I should get you drunk and see what you really think.”

“I’m not a nice drunk.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so continued along her train of thought. “I’ll be brief. I don’t need much to run something powerful. A short segment, seven minutes. Two-minute lead-in, then four minutes of interviews with Ivy’s mother, her stepfather, Detective Martin, NCFI if they can get me anything good, and B-roll. If I can get Bailey, the Brocks, or Travis it would help.”

“The Brocks aren’t going on camera to help find Ivy’s killer when they hold her responsible for their daughter’s depression and suicide.”

“I can ask.”

“Tread lightly on this one.”

“Since when are you my director?” She snapped, irritable. She was tired, dammit, and David was in an odd mood. She didn’t want—or need—him to be involved with her strategy. She’d been doing this long enough without him. She drained her wineglass and continued. “A minute-long wrap-up with a call to action—more information, call the NET hotline. I’d like to get Tommy on film.”

“You haven’t even met him. You already said you didn’t think he wrote the letter alone.”

“That doesn’t mean he won’t have something to say. I’ll take B-roll when Graham and his crew walk through the crime scene—”

“Detective Martin approved?”

“I didn’t ask for anything more than to allow NCFI to analyze the crime scene and review the evidence and photographs,” Max said. “Just the basics. Why would she
dis
approve? It’s not like this is the number one priority for her. With Graham on board, I’ll know exactly what evidence they have and don’t have.” She waited until the waiter refilled her wine. “Honestly, I should have thought of this before, but after my conversation with Grace it’s clear. Three people were Snapchatting with Ivy prior to her leaving her house the night she was killed. She left shortly before ten thirty; it’s less than a ten-minute drive to where she was killed. She didn’t die until between one and two. Where was she the two to three hours prior to her death? The police never found out. No one came forward claiming to be with her. If Ivy was alone, what was she doing? Surely one of those Snapchatters knows
something
. Someone will break if I work the angle right. Someone always does.”

Their food was delivered and Max began to relax, her headache finally disappearing altogether. After the bit of …
tension
 … during their conversation, she and David settled into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t until after they ate and Max ordered a brandy that she casually mentioned, “Austin Lake, Tommy’s stepbrother, showed up outside the hotel today.”

David said, “And you just tell me this now?”

She knew David would be irritated with Austin and with her, which was why she hadn’t told him earlier. “He didn’t talk to me, bolted when I spotted him. I didn’t know it was Austin until I dug through my files and found a photo. I want to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“You told Tommy where you were staying?”

“No—I hadn’t even e-mailed him at that point.”

“How did he know you were in Sausalito? At the Madrona?”

“Ben’s looking into a possible leak from staff.” She was just as curious, but planned to ask Austin outright. “I’ll find out.” Before David could get all security-conscious on her and start an argument—which she would inevitably respond to by reminding him she had been an investigative reporter for years before he was on staff—she said, “Tomorrow morning I’m meeting with Lance Lorenzo, the local crime reporter who covered the Ivy Lake homicide. Grace Martin doesn’t like him, and I’d like to get his impression of the case. See what he’ll share, where he thinks I should look.”

“I’m not going to tell you how to do your job,” David said.

Max laughed. “You’re not?”

“Do I have to remind you of what happened the last time you reached out to the local press?”

“A totally different situation,” she said.

“Hardly.”

The last time was a confrontation with an old-time print reporter who had been taken by surprise by the Internet revolution. Not wanting to change his methods or format, he ended up a bitter drunk. Worse, he directed his animosity toward Max because she was young, attractive, and had embraced the new media. It hadn’t been pleasant.

“I can handle Lorenzo,” Max said confidently. “He’s twenty-four. Graduated from Sonoma State with a degree in English and a minor in journalism. He’s from Mill Valley, just like you. His parents still live there. He’s looking to move up, I’m fairly certain, and he maintains a blog. Very active online. I’ll bet he has both information and opinions. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t talk to him. And no—you can’t come. You would scare him.”

“And you won’t?”

She arched her eyebrows. “I can be nice when I want.”

David laughed, the sound brief but genuine. “Poor boy.”

After his intense afternoon with Brittney, Max was pleased she’d gotten David to loosen up some. She paid the check and they walked back to the hotel.

Out of habit, David inspected her suite first. When he first started working for her, she’d been irritated by what she felt were far too intensive and intrusive security measures; now she was grateful to have someone looking out for her. Well, not
someone.
She doubted whether she would tolerate anyone else. It had taken her and David nearly a year before they stopped disliking each other, and even longer before they became friends. It had been two years since Ben hired him; now Max found him indispensable. That bugged the hell out of her.

David inspected the timeline she’d set up around Ivy’s death. “You were busy this afternoon.”

“I did most of the work back in New York. Once I sleep on it, I’ll have more to add, but the timeline is accurate.” She tapped the two hours prior to Ivy’s murder, when no one knew where she’d been or who she was with. “This is key. I hope the segment on Thursday will give us the answer.”

“You seem confident that Paula Wallace will agree to talk with you on camera.”

“Her agreement is irrelevant. I would
like
to include her, but it’s certainly not necessary for me.” She kissed David on the cheek. “Sleep well. This will be a busy week.”

She was about to close the door when David said, “Max—you’re the one who needs to sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond.

“I’ve
always
had problems sleeping,” she said. “This isn’t because of what happened.” She didn’t want to talk about it. She would—if forced—but being kidnapped and tortured and nearly killed by an egotistical, jealous, brooding asshole was not her favorite topic of conversation. Not even with dear David.

“It’s gotten worse,” he said.

“Not true.” She hated lying, and tried to avoid it. Worse, he knew she was lying.

He just stared at her.

“Okay, it’s worse some nights,” she admitted. “But I slept well in Lake Tahoe.”

“If you can call five hours a night sleeping well.”

“You were keeping track?” One look at his face and she knew it wasn’t David keeping track. Her hand tightened around the door frame. “Nick! Do not discuss me with Nick! He had no right to talk to you about me.”

David stepped forward, just as angry as she was. “If you were honest with me, and with Nick, he wouldn’t be so worried.”

“I’m not lying to you or anybody. And there hasn’t been a night I’ve slept more than six hours for as long as I can remember. So when I say I’ll be fine, I will be
fine.
And Nick can damn well talk to me about it if he’s so damn concerned.”

She shut the door. Terrific. Her night was officially ruined. She should never have vacationed together with both David and Nick. What a stupid, idiotic thing to do. Of
course
they had bonded, they were both former military. They were single dads, each with a kid they couldn’t see as much as they wanted. They liked boating. Maybe they should start screwing each other, because Max was beginning to feel like the third wheel in this odd relationship.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Her phone rang and she looked at the caller ID.

Nick.

Of course.

She declined the call and went to bed.

*   *   *

In his tree house, Tommy read the e-mail from Maxine Revere over and over again.

Dear Tommy,

Last week I told you that I’d agreed to look into your stepsister’s murder. I arrived in town earlier today and have already met with the police detective in charge of the investigation. I would also like to talk to you as soon as possible.

Please contact me on my cell phone or e-mail me to let me know when would be a good time for us to meet. How about tomorrow after school? I can meet you anywhere you’d like. In your letter, you mentioned that you like ice cream. So do I. Online, I saw that there is a wonderful gelato shop not too far from your school. Maybe we could meet there?

Sincerely,

Maxine Revere

She was here and she’d e-mailed him—just like she said she would! Wow. She really wanted to help him. He liked gelato, though he preferred real ice cream. But he would have gelato with Maxine Revere if that’s what she wanted.

He was about to respond to the e-mail, then hesitated. Austin had wanted to know when Maxine Revere e-mailed or called. Tommy had come up to his tree house after dinner because he didn’t want his mom to hear him talking to the reporter. His face grew warm. He didn’t like to keep anything from his mom.

He forwarded the e-mail to Austin and added a message:
What should I tell her? Right after school? I don’t have to be home until 5:30. I want you to come. I don’t want to talk to her alone. I’m scared she’ll think I’m stupid and will leave and not help us.

He was waiting for Austin to e-mail him back when the bell at the bottom of his tree rang. Tommy burst out into a grin.
Austin?
Then he froze. Austin was going to get in trouble for sneaking out of the house after dark and visiting him. Tommy didn’t want Austin to get in trouble. Tommy opened the trapdoor in the floor of his tree house. “Hello? What’s the password?” He shined his flashlight down the tree.

It wasn’t Austin; it was his sister Amanda.

“I don’t remember,” she said.

“You can’t come up without the password.”

“Tommy, Mom sent me out to get you. It’s after ten—you should be in bed.”

“I’m eighteen, I don’t have a bedtime.”

“You have school tomorrow.” Amanda put her hand on the ladder.

“Password.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. She didn’t say anything for a minute, a frown on her face. Then suddenly she snapped her fingers. “SpongePants SquareBob!”

He laughed. “See, you remembered!”

She climbed up the ladder and sat on the trapdoor ledge. “What are you doing up here so late?”

“I sent Austin an e-mail. I’m waiting for him to send one back to me.” Amanda knew that Austin wasn’t supposed to come over here, but she didn’t tell on him to their dad. As long as Austin was nice to Tommy, she wouldn’t say anything.

“Is Austin still grounded? I thought I saw him here this afternoon.”

“He’s not grounded anymore.” Tommy looked down at his laptop. Austin still hadn’t e-mailed him. It had been fifteen minutes.

“Hey, Tommy, it’s okay,” Amanda said.

“It’s my fault he was grounded.”

“That’s stupid.”

He stared at his hands.

“Hey—I’m sorry.” She took his hands. “I didn’t mean that
you
were stupid, Tommy. I meant that it’s not your fault that Austin was grounded. His mother told him he couldn’t see you, and he broke the rules.”

“Do you think that’s fair? Maybe I should stay away from him so he doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

“No, it’s not fair. And if you want to see Austin—if he is good to you—then you should see him. Paula is a bitch.”

“Don’t say that.”

“She is, and I don’t care if you don’t want to hear it. She is a mean, nasty bitch. She hurt your feelings for no reason except that she’s a stuck-up bitch. Austin knows he’ll get in trouble, but he still comes over anyway. I think that means he really likes you.”

“We’re brothers. Brothers love each other, just like we do.” Tommy smiled.

Amanda was sixteen and just got her driver’s license last month. She took him to school every morning now. He put his bike in the back because she had stuff to do after school and he rode his bike home. She never once complained about driving him places. Amanda agreed with Austin that Tommy should be able to get his driver’s license. She said she’d help him study for the test. She also said she’d talk to their mom about letting him get his license, but she hadn’t done that yet. She said she had to find the right time. He didn’t understand that, but maybe that just meant when their mom wasn’t tired or upset. She was tired or upset a lot.

Amanda tilted her head. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the tree house over the last couple of weeks.”

“I like it here.” That was true, but it felt like he was lying to her, and he didn’t like the feeling. “You think tree houses are for little kids?”

“Who told you that?” Amanda demanded, suddenly mad. “Was it Austin?”

“No, Austin likes the tree house.”

“Then who?”

“Why are you mad?”

“I think this tree house is fantastic. Even if Daddy built it for the wrong reasons.”