“I tried-”
“We could get the information in other ways. It was already a tense situation.”
“That wasn’t my fault.” Why was Noah angry with her? She hadn’t gone into Crowley’s office on a rant. “Crowley is a classic power narcissist. He responds negatively to attacks, he needs to be praised and made to feel important, then you can get him to talk about anything.”
She hadn’t realized Stein overheard her comment. He snapped his phone off and said, “I understand politicians better than you, Kincaid. I’m not going to coddle them when I know in my gut they’re crooked, and I’m not going to play pop psychology games.”
Noah said, “Josh, I understand where you’re coming from, but right now you’re fishing on influence peddling. You have no evidence. On the other hand, we have a dead body and interviewing Crowley is part of the process. I need his statement.”
Stein shook his head. “I get it, Armstrong, but I stand by my approach. Now we wait and watch. He’ll do something to tip his hand, I guarantee it. And then maybe we’ll both get what we want-I’ll nail him for corruption, you get him for murder.”
“If he’s guilty,” Lucy said. She wanted to say,
“He’s guilty of something.” Stein glanced at his watch. “Can you get a taxi back to your car? I have to get back to headquarters.” He left without waiting for an answer.
Lucy followed Noah, who was walking quickly and ignoring her. “Noah, wait,” she finally said. The heat made her hot and irritable.
He stopped under a tree near the sidewalk. “I know what you’re going to say. Josh Stein is an asshole. He’s impulsive and arrogant. But he’s also my superior, and yours.” He added under his breath, “It’s my fault.” He started walking again, but Lucy stopped him.
“Noah, what did I do?” Her heart was racing and she began to panic that she’d overstepped. “I’m sorry I said anything to the congressman, but I was only thinking about what we’d been talking about earlier, that maybe Wendy James has another place. And we confirmed it!”
“I planned on coming back to talk to Crowley without Stein.”
“I didn’t know.” She felt foolish, but wished Noah had given her a clue to his plans.
“I’ve given you a lot of slack these last two months, but that can’t continue. This case is far too complicated and high-profile.”
“I haven’t jeopardized anything, have I?” She couldn’t imagine what she’d said or done that would put a conviction at risk.
“Not yet.” Noah flagged down a taxi and opened the door for Lucy.
She slid into the cab.
Which meant he expected her to screw up.
It was after six by the time Noah and Lucy arrived back at Wendy James’s apartment. Noah was on the phone the entire drive, talking to an analyst about property records. Apartment 710 was owned by the corporation that managed the condo and two floors down from Wendy’s official residence, 910.
The manager let them in. “I don’t think Wendy ever used this place,” Betty Dare said. “It’s leased for short- term stays-less than a month.”
“Do you have the printout of who’s leased it in the past year?” Noah asked.
She handed him a folder.
Noah glanced through it. “These are businesses.”
“Yes-they will lease the place for staff who are coming into the city to testify, sometimes staying a week, sometimes longer.”
Lucy held her hand out. “I can go through them tonight.”
Noah didn’t give her the file. “We have a well-staffed office, Lucy. You don’t have to volunteer for everything.”
Ms. Dare hesitated, then handed Noah the key. “If you can lock up and return the key on your way out?”
“Of course.”
After the manager left, Lucy looked around.
The place was lavishly decorated with expensive, durable furniture befitting a high-end lease. Leather couch, plush carpet, granite in the kitchen, and a fifty-inch television on the wall. A plethora of plants made the place appear homey, but upon closer inspection, Lucy realized they were silk. The refrigerator had two unopened bottles of white wine and long-shelf-life barrel cheese. The kitchen cabinets included unopened packages of crackers and a wide array of alcohol. There were plates, glasses, utensils, all clean.
“Looks standard,” Noah said.
“With food and drink?”
“For executives who come in after hours-hotels do it.”
“Something seems-off.”
“Maybe Wendy didn’t want to bring Crowley into her apartment. Nosy neighbor, maybe she had a boyfriend.” Noah added, “We got nothing from the neighbors earlier, but we should follow up now that it’s after six.”
Lucy was only half-listening to Noah. She stared at a discolored strip of molding along the ceiling. There was a dark mark near the edge that caught her attention.
She pulled over a chair from the dining area and put it against the wall. As soon as she got closer to the molding, she saw that it was loose. The smudge appeared to be grease. She wiggled the piece and realized it was on a hinge.
“What are you doing?” Noah asked.
“There’s a hidey-hole here.”
“Hidey-hole?” Noah sounded amused.
Lucy pushed up and the little door snapped off. “Sorry,” she said.
“Lucy, I’ll bring a team in-”
“It’s wires. Lots of them. The space is only four inches wide. A building like this would have a separate room for its wiring.” Lucy handed Noah the broken door. “This molding is different than the rest. It’s PVC, not wood.”
She stepped off the chair and led the way into the bedroom. She saw the same slightly off-color strip of molding.
Her instincts buzzed that she’d discovered something important. “Look-same thing here.”
“Let me do it this time,” Noah said. He brought over a chair and used it as a step stool to stand on the dresser. “There’s definitely a door here.” He tapped in several locations and suddenly a door sprang up. “And I didn’t break it,” he said, grinning.
He shined a flashlight into the hole. “Empty. But something was definitely here. There’re outlets.”
“Outlets
“What’s on the backside of this wall?”
Lucy walked around and opened the door. “A linen closet. There are sheets, towels, toiletries.”
“Eight feet deep?”
She eyeballed it. “It’s about three feet wide and four feet deep.”
“This section of wall is over eight feet.”
Noah jumped down.
Lucy knew exactly what he was thinking. Her heart pounded as she took the linens and two loose shelves from the closet. Behind the sheets was an obvious “hidden” panel.
Wires in the walls and ceiling, in the bedroom and living room, an apartment with no owner, where a congressman met with his mistress-sex tapes. Lucy’s face flushed as she fumbled with the panel.
She took a deep breath. Forced the memories back. Hot and cold flashes washed over her skin as snippets of her past assaulted her. The video camera with its mocking red light, reminding her that everyone who paid could watch her, tied naked to the floor. The pain and humiliation and the despair.
She had wanted to die.
