Returning to Collette’s body, he began to search for evidence, carefully checking the area surrounding her and her clothes, all the while not disturbing any of the crime scene.
The gun...
With that sobering thought, he looked for the weapon. It wasn’t here. He searched the whole house and didn’t find the gun he’d given her.
He went to her computer. She didn’t keep it locked, so he easily clicked his way to her email. Not finding anything there, he went through all of her files. In a folder labeled “Resumes,” he found an email file with the subject “What’s Next?” It was an exchange between Damen and a man he didn’t know. Korbin opened it and realized his luck had finally improved. Collette had forwarded an email exchange from Damen’s machine to hers. She’d cleverly hidden it in the file folder and deleted it from her email program. If Damen had checked, he’d missed it.
Korbin printed a copy, reading the exchange on the screen. A man named Tony wanted to know if Damen had finished putting together a team and Damen had replied with Not yet, but I’m close. The time the email was sent was a few days after Korbin had refused his request. Tony had replied, You promised me a team. If you can’t handle this, I’ll have to make other arrangements. What wasn’t written there was what Tony would do with Damen if he failed him. You’ll have your team, Damen had responded. And the last of the thread was Tony saying, For your sake, I hope so.
With Collette dead, Korbin didn’t have to worry about Damen finding out that she was onto him. What else had she known? What had made her keep this email thread? Korbin wished he could ask her.
Wiping his prints from the mouse and anywhere else he’d touched, he left the house, deliberately leaving the email open on Collette’s computer so that it would be easy for police to find.
Now he had to get somewhere safe to hide, somewhere he could do some research on Tony Bartoszewicz. And figure out a strategy to take Damen down. Before Damen cost him more than he already had.
Chapter 2
“I’m not using my house as a fortress to protect me from men, Mother.” Putting her book down on the table, Savanna Ivy stood up from the cushiony chair in the corner of the loft. Her feet sank into the thick mocha rug as she passed between a love seat and a television atop an antique wood cabinet. A log railing allowed a view of the living room below. She saw through the gabled windows and under exterior lights that it was snowing harder now. Her mother had interrupted a really good book on a stormy evening.
“You went there on purpose,” her mother said.
“I live here.”
“On purpose,” her mother insisted. “Your reclusiveness worries me.”
Camille Ivy didn’t like it when Savanna went into her hermit modes. She couldn’t surprise her with her celebratory family visits. Tucked deep in the woods just south of Wolf Creek Pass, Savanna’s log home was on seventy-five rugged acres in Colorado’s southeastern San Juan Mountains. In winter, she was frequently snowed in.
She went down the open stairs and into her living room, passing a white leather sofa, love seat and chairs with nail-head trim on a mosaic rug in dark green and black. A beautiful alder wood buffet and wine cabinet were behind the sofa and against the wall.
Beside the large gabled window, the black gneiss rock fireplace rose all the way up to an exposed log ceiling. She had a fire going. Soft piano music played from her stereo, stored in a built-in cabinet where a huge television was embedded in the log wall, off for now.