“Her attorney handles divorces, so money can be tricky. He only takes cash and wire transfers, and she probably wanted to hide the transaction from her husband. So say Craig pumped her for information about it, so he knew when the money would be in her safe, and he picked the timing for the murder.”
“And then he got himself arrested for a DUI, giving himself an alibi,” Jeremy said. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“Yes.” She checked her watch. “I need to call Brock. I think I just found the alternative suspect Ollie was looking at.”
“Two suspects,” Jeremy said.
“Right. And I think we have their motive right here.”
Charlotte bumped into Diaz as she was leaving the police station. The fast-food cup in his hand told her he’d already had lunch.
“Hey, check this out.” He handed her a stapled stack of papers.
“What is this?”
“Just got this from my FBI contact. I asked him about Andre Markov.”
Charlotte stepped out of the traffic flow beside the door as she skimmed the top page.
“This is an arrest record for Anatoly Markov.”
“Andre’s father,” Diaz said.
“He was busted for drugs. And . . . check fraud. But this is old. The most recent arrest was twenty years ago.”
“Yeah, but I hear the feds have him on their radar. Him and his businesses. They’re looking at RICO charges, and my friend told me he’s rumored to be behind an unsolved murder in Channelview.”
That got her attention. “Tell me more.”
“One of Anatoly’s dock workers got popped on drug charges—intent to distribute. He managed to get his throat slit two weeks before trial.”
“Interesting.”
“Yup. Like I said, the feds don’t have it all nailed down, but they’re looking at this guy hard, and he’s Andre Markov’s father.”
Charlotte skimmed the papers again. “Mind if I keep this?”
“It’s yours. Where you headed?” he asked, holding the door open for her.
“I got a message from Kira,” Charlotte said. “She wants to meet, and she says it’s important. You want to come?”
“Sure.” He fell into step beside her on the sidewalk.
“She’s at Logan’s law office. Their team is on a lunch break. I’m going to meet her there before I head over to the courthouse. The Quinn trial is starting, and I want to sit in.”
“Why?”
“You know. Get a read on the players. Watch Logan. Get a feel for his case.”
Diaz smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he replied.
“That was definitely a look,” she said as they crossed the parking lot. “What is it?”
“You and Logan.”
“Me and Logan?”
“Yeah, I noticed you’re interested in him.”
“I am not interested in him. I hate lawyers.”
Diaz shook his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They reached the car, and Charlotte slid behind the wheel. She grabbed the accordion file from the passenger seat to make room for Diaz. As he got into the car, she slid the new paperwork into the file and pulled out a forensics report.
“Read that,” she said, handing it to him. “It’s from Grant.”
Diaz skimmed the paper as she backed out of the parking space.
“This is from the car hood last night?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Says the prints aren’t in AFIS.”
“That’s right.”
“But he got a full handprint?”
“That’s right.”
Charlotte exited the parking lot. She glanced at Diaz, and he was frowning at the page. “I don’t get it. Sounds like a dead end.”
“Keep reading.”
She changed lanes so she could pick up Smith Street, which would take her straight to Logan’s building.
“One of the prints matches the glove from Brock Logan’s back fence.”
Charlotte smiled. “Bingo.”
“So whoever it was at Kovak’s office last night is our shooter.”
“Yep. And Grant’s still working. He said he had another lead on the print, but he had to confirm something first.”
“That’s vague.”
“Yes, but given Grant’s track record, that’s good, right? He turns over every stone.”
Charlotte fought her way through the lunchtime traffic. The streets were still wet from the drizzle earlier, which made people forget how to drive. Diaz didn’t talk, and she took advantage of the quiet to sort through her thoughts about the case.
The shooter was after something. As in some thing, a physical object. Otherwise, why grab up all the electronics from Logan’s house? And ransack Ollie’s office looking for something? And then return to that office as if whatever it was still needed to be found?
But Charlotte couldn’t figure it out.
So much paperwork was digital now. Why would the killer want a physical copy of something? It had to be something unique. And uniquely incriminating. Such as a piece of biological evidence, maybe. Or a murder weapon. Or a stash of money. Some thing with value in and of itself. But that theory didn’t tie in with the theory she’d come up with originally, that the shooter had shown up at Logan’s home and gunned down Gavin Quinn’s defense team and stolen their computers and files in order to throw a wrench into their court case.
Who the hell was this guy, and what was he after? And why was he so certain that whatever it was, Oliver Kovak was in possession of it at the time of his death?
Kira knew much more than she was saying. If she wasn’t careful, her secrets were going to get her killed.
“You’re quiet over there.”
Charlotte looked at her partner. “Just thinking. Mind?” She picked up his drink from the cupholder.
“Finish it. I’ve had enough caffeine.”
She took a slurp. It was real Coke, cold and sugary, and she wished she’d had time to grab a bite of lunch. She wasn’t looking forward to sitting in court on an empty stomach.
Charlotte pulled into the parking garage beside Brock Logan’s office and took a ticket from the dispenser. There was a row of spaces marked reserved, and she pulled into one, adjusting the police hangtag on her rearview mirror, which she hoped would keep her from getting ticketed.
They crossed the garage to the door, where they were met by a wall of frosty air. An all-glass tunnel led to the main lobby of Logan’s building. It was a three-story atrium with a huge black sculpture in the center. The sculpture was an oblong-shaped glob on two spindly legs, and Charlotte thought it looked like a charred flamingo.
She scanned the lobby for any sign of Kira.
“There she is,” Diaz said, and Charlotte followed his gaze to a group of people walking from the elevator banks. Charlotte spotted the PI. She was dressed like a lawyer today in slacks and high heels, and she had her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Evidently, she planned to be in the courtroom this afternoon, too.
At her side was Jeremy, who was half a head taller than everyone else in the lobby and looked intimidating in his dark suit. He’d skipped the tie today, but he appeared every bit as grim as he had at Ollie’s funeral Saturday.
Spotting Charlotte and Diaz, Kira crossed the lobby and stopped in front of them.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she said to Charlotte.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“A lot.” She pulled a blue folder from her bag. “Take a look at this.”