A Merciful Secret Page 10

  He leaned closer to the rear hatch and sniffed. All he smelled was icy cold air.

  Relieved, he got back in his vehicle and took another look at the name and address of the registered owner.

  Christian Lake.

  Bells rang in his head. There was a victim named Lake who might be tied to Olivia Sabin’s murder. But the victim was a judge who lived in Portland. It was the similarity of the two murders that had sparked the interest of the FBI.

  This vehicle can’t be related.

  Truman started his SUV, plugged the owner’s address into his GPS, and pulled back onto the plowed road, his curiosity growing. He’d see if the owner was related to the victim before calling the FBI.

  Christian Lake’s home was stunning. Truman wouldn’t call it a mansion, but it was pretty damned close. The huge mountain-cabin-on-steroids-style house sat on a high ridge, overlooking a lake. A location Truman found mildly amusing considering the owner’s last name.

  He parked, noting the six-car garage connected to the giant home by a long covered walkway. An old Hummer was parked in front of the closest garage door, an early model Truman recognized as being desirable among collectors, and he wondered what other types of classic vehicles were hidden behind the doors. He called in his location and got out of his SUV.

  “Can I help you?” A stocky man had emerged from the home’s end of the walkway. He looked about Truman’s age and wore a Mount Bachelor cap and thick black jacket. His breath hung in the cold air.

  “Are you Christian Lake?”

  “No. Mr. Lake is a bit busy. Can I give him a message, Officer?”

  Truman pulled off his gloves and dug a business card out of his pocket. He held it out to the man, noting he could be actor Jason Stratham’s twin. He even had the beard stubble and scowl. “Is he missing a black Lexus SUV?”

  The man frowned at the card. “Why are you asking?”

  “Because it’s been sitting on a road’s shoulder for a few days.”

  “What? Hang on a minute.” He strode to the garage, punched a code into a keypad, and vanished through the door that opened.

  Truman waited. He has to take inventory?

  The man reappeared five seconds later. “Where is it?”

  “I’d like to talk to Christian Lake. He’s the registered owner.” Truman wasn’t budging until he talked to Lake.

  The man glanced at Truman’s department SUV and back to the card. “Okay, Chief. I’m trying to keep people out of his hair today, but I think he’ll talk to you.” He gestured for Truman to follow him into the home.

  Truman gaped as he entered.

  Golden wood gleamed. Everywhere Truman looked, he saw polished wood and glass. Tall wainscoting, custom cabinets, end tables, and elaborate baseboards. The ceilings were sky high and decorated with rustic beams, amplifying the multimillion-dollar-cabin feeling. In the middle of the open common area, a three-sided fireplace made of river rock immediately drew his gaze. It was the centerpiece of the room, stretching up to the grand ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out to the lake and showed off a giant deck that appeared to surround the entire home. Truman felt as if he were indoors and outdoors at the same time.

  “Nice home.” An understatement.

  The other man glanced back at him. “It is. Wait here and I’ll get Christian.” He pointed at a sitting area and then jogged up a curving wood staircase.

  Mercy would love this.

  Actually, she’d say it was too big to maintain in an emergency. Although she’d like the remote location.

  Truman suddenly looked at the home with new eyes, wondering about power and heat for the home if society collapsed. He didn’t know whether to appreciate or be annoyed that he viewed the world a bit differently since Mercy had come into his life.

  But he could still acknowledge an incredible home.

  The interior was ornate but welcoming and casual. The overstuffed furniture had been arranged to create several different seating areas that begged for conversation and friends and wine. Scents of coffee and cinnamon created a homey ambiance, softening the fact that the room was devoid of people. Except Truman.

  Instead of sitting, he walked over to the tall windows and looked out at the lake. Standing closer, he realized they weren’t just windows . . . they were glass panels that slid to the sides when the owner wished to open the entire back wall to the outdoors. I’d love to see this during the summer.

  Footsteps sounded, and two men came down the stairs. Christian Lake was around forty and tall and clearly spent time in a gym, the muscle definition in his arms showing through his long-sleeved shirt. Truman wasn’t one to judge another man’s looks, but he suspected Mercy would do a double take if Christian Lake walked by. If the first guy looked like Jason Stratham, Lake resembled Ryan Reynolds.

  Truman felt as if he were on a movie set.

  Christian Lake’s brown eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted. He held out his hand to Truman. “I’m Christian, Chief Daly. I understand you found one of my vehicles?”

  His handshake was solid and his gaze direct. The man Truman had met outside hovered several feet behind Christian, his arms loose at his sides, his gaze watchful and assessing. Bodyguard? He could easily hide a weapon under his heavy coat. Truman studied Christian Lake. Why does this man need protection?

  “I found a black Lexus SUV registered to you out on Goose Hollow Road. It’s been sitting there for a few days.”

  Christian briefly closed his eyes. “Oh crap. I loaned it to Rob Murray a while back. I’d forgotten with all the—” He turned to the man behind him. “Rollins, can you give Rob a call?” Christian looked back at Truman. “Was it wrecked?”

  “No. It looked fine.” If I owned an SUV like that, I wouldn’t loan it to anyone.

  Relief crossed Christian’s face.

  “I didn’t call for a tow yet,” Truman said. “I’ll leave that to you since you seem to know what happened.”

  “I’ll get to the bottom of this, but I’m surprised he’d just abandon it. That’s not like him. I hope he’s okay.”

  “He’s a friend?” Truman asked.

  “He works for me.”

  “No answer,” Rollins said, sliding his phone into his pocket.

  Frustration crossed Christian’s face. “Do you mind taking care of the car?” he asked Rollins. “I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes.” Rollins nodded, took a hard look at Truman, and then disappeared down a hallway on the other side of the stairs.

  “Rollins works for you too?” Truman hadn’t cared for Rollins’s parting look. It’d warned him to toe the line.

  “He does. Thanks for driving out here, Chief Daly. I know I’m out of your way.”

  “Do I need to look for your friend?”

  Christian frowned. “I’ll call him again later. I’m sure it’s nothing. His car was having issues, so I loaned him mine for a few days. I’ve been distracted since—” The man looked away, swallowing hard.

  Truman studied the bloodshot eyes and decided to ask the question that’d been ricocheting through his brain. “Are you related to Malcolm Lake?”

  As Christian’s face fell, Truman instantly wished he hadn’t asked. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’d heard about his death, but I wasn’t sure you were related.”

  “He was my father . . . and thank you.”

  Truman paused, wanting to ask if Christian was aware of the similarity between his father’s death and Olivia Sabin’s. None of my business. His gaze fell on a series of award plaques behind Christian on the wall. Even at this distance, he could see LAKE SKI AND SPORTS engraved in the metal.

  “You’re Lake Ski and Sports?” he blurted before thinking.

  “Yes.”

  The protective actions of Rollins made a little more sense now. Christian Lake was a very, very wealthy man . . . although Truman had been clued into that fact as he drove up to the house. Truman had heard the owner of Lake Ski and Sports was developing a new type of ski that might rock the
entire industry, along with several other new sports equipment–related improvements. He’d been hailed as an innovator by the media and condemned as a disrupter by manufacturers because his inventions threatened to make their products obsolete.

  Lake was sort of a smaller-scale Bill Gates or Elon Musk of sporting goods.

  Truman held out his hand, feeling he’d overstayed his welcome. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  “Thank you. I’ll show you out.” He led the way to the front door, giving Truman new mind-boggling views of the home’s elaborate interior. Out front a huge covered porch overlooked the grounds. Even though it was covered in snow, Truman suspected the extensive property was perfectly landscaped. As he went down the steps, a small SUV came up the long drive and parked.

  He blinked as Mercy stepped out of the back door on the driver’s side. A dark-haired woman emerged from the passenger’s side, and Eddie slammed the driver’s door, instantly spotting Truman. “Hey, Truman!”

  Christian Lake’s appointment was with the FBI.

  Truman glanced back at Christian, who now curiously eyed him.

  How can I convince them to let me sit in on their interview?

  Hiding her pleasure at unexpectedly running into Truman, Mercy introduced him to Ava as they stood in the snow in front of the giant cabin.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” the Portland FBI agent told him with a wink and warm grin.

  Mercy elbowed her. “Stop it.”

  Truman’s smile indicated he found Ava amusing.

  “What are you doing here?” Mercy asked Truman.

  He jerked his head toward a man who waited several yards away on the front porch. Christian Lake. He looked good. Long gone was the geek she’d worked with at the steak house. Now he was movie-star handsome. And rich.

  Will he remember me?

  “I found an abandoned car,” Truman said. “Turned out to be his, so I came out to let him know about it.”

  Eddie eyed the big vehicle in front of the garage. “That old Hummer?”

  “No. A Lexus SUV. It’s still on the side of the road.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Goose Hollow Road.”

  The three agents exchanged a glance. “Did he leave it there?” asked Ava. “Was it damaged?”

  It was Truman’s turn to frown. “No and no. He said he loaned it to an employee. Why?”

  Mercy bit her lip. “We need to know where Christian has been for the last few days. An abandoned vehicle is interesting.”

  “I put together that he’s Malcolm Lake’s son. I didn’t ask any questions about his father’s death, but he’s clearly upset about it,” stated Truman. “And besides, the SUV is registered to him. If he thought he was hiding it, he’s not very sharp,” Truman said dryly.

  Ava grinned at his comment and a spark of jealousy flared in Mercy’s chest, catching her by surprise. She instantly let it go and enjoyed the signs that two of her favorite people might share the same sense of humor.

  Truman said, “I assume you’re here to talk about his father’s murder?”

  Ava and Eddie nodded.

  “But why are you here?” Truman asked Mercy. “This isn’t your case.”

  “I knew Christian. He grew up in Eagle’s Nest and was a few years older than me. Ava is hoping I can get him to open up a bit more.” And I want to find Olivia’s killer.

  “Christian wasn’t cooperative on the phone,” said Ava. “And he didn’t go to Portland after being told about his father’s death. I find that very odd.”

  Mercy knew Truman wanted to stick around. And by the inquisitive look on his face, he wouldn’t mind listening in on Christian’s interview, but there were no grounds for it. He reluctantly told them good-bye and drove off in the snow.

  Ava watched him leave. “Truman’s even better in person.”

  “Tell me about it,” muttered Mercy, keenly feeling his departure.

  “Mercy goes around moony eyed all the time,” added Eddie.

  Mercy glared at him. “You’re the same way about that female friend of Jeff’s.”

  He stiffened, a guilty look in his eyes behind the thick frames. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Children,” lectured Ava. “Behave. We’ve got work to do.” She marched up the stairs and introduced herself to Christian Lake. She turned and introduced Eddie and then Mercy.

  Christian shook her hand and blinked as he held her gaze. “Kilpatrick . . . Mercy?” A grin filled his face.

  “Good to see you too, Christian. I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances.”

  “You’re an FBI agent?” he exclaimed. “You?” He hadn’t let go of her hand yet.

  “And you’re rich and famous,” she emphasized. “I’ve followed your career. I still think of you as the line cook who constantly burned my orders.”

  “I was the epitome of a nerd. You were always kind to me, and I appreciated that,” he said sincerely. He noticed he was still shaking her hand and let go, looking to Ava and Eddie. “I had a huge crush on Mercy back then. She was a cute young thing.”

  Mercy spotted Ava’s smug grin. I’m her secret weapon. But Christian was sharp. He wouldn’t share anything he didn’t want to. He hadn’t become this successful without learning a trick or two.

  Three minutes later the four of them were seated at a dining room table for sixteen. Mercy had counted the chairs while trying not to gawk at the chandelier of wrought iron and glass. It had to be five feet tall and just as wide. Ava sat at the head of the table, taking charge of the interview as Mercy sized up this new Christian Lake.

  He looked exhausted and as if he’d been hating life for days.

  Exactly what she’d expected of someone whose father had been murdered.

  “Why didn’t you go to Portland when you got the news of your father’s death?” Ava pulled no punches with her first question. She sat straight in her chair, her gaze focused on the son, her attitude all business.

  Christian glanced down, his hands gripped together on the table before him. “My father and I have been estranged for a while.”

  “What happened?” Ava asked.

  The son looked out the window, and Mercy followed his gaze to the picturesque lake that reflected the perfect blue of the sky. “It’s an old story.”

  “I’d love to hear it,” said the Portland agent.

  Christian shifted in his chair. “My parents divorced when I was eight. It was pretty brutal and my father essentially left my mother for another woman. Of course, the relationship didn’t last.” He gave a satisfied smile. “But he’d moved to Portland and decided to stay. I’d hear from him occasionally. A card on my birthday. Crap like that. Twice during my teen years, he acted like he wanted to be back in my life. He’d call and write persistently for a month or two, but I hated him. I’d sworn never to speak with him, and I ignored him until after I finished college. I’d finally started to think maybe it was time for me to have an adult relationship with him. The hatred seemed so juvenile, and so we tentatively began to talk, even met for a beer a time or two. I kept those visits short. I was always civil, not ready to embrace him as family.

  “But ten years ago, I received a sizable inheritance from my aunt . . . my father’s sister. She’d hated what he did to my mother. She didn’t have kids and left me the bulk of her estate—she left my father and my mother each a good amount too, but I got three-quarters of a twenty-million-dollar settlement. It didn’t help my relationship with my father.”

  “That’s a lot of money for someone in their twenties,” commented Eddie.

  Christian gave a wry grin. “It was, but I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it.”

  “Your father didn’t like the split of the money?” Mercy asked.

  “My mother didn’t either because my aunt barely left any to my older brother, Gabriel. My mother—and brother—found it very unfair.”

  “Why didn’t your brother get the same amount?” Ava asked.

>   Christian shrugged. “She liked me best. She was the type to play favorites. I always thought it was a good thing she didn’t have kids. My father was furious when he heard how I was planning to spend that inheritance. He considered it a slap in my aunt’s face to invest all her money in something doomed to fail. So again, we were no longer on speaking terms.”

  “You bought the sporting goods stores,” Eddie stated.

  Christian’s smile was strained. “I found the struggling store here in Bend and saw it as the stepping stone to my dream. My father said I would go bankrupt.”

  “And you remained estranged because your father didn’t agree with your goals?” Mercy sympathized, her father’s face prominent in her mind.

  “He’s rather stubborn,” stated Christian. “I guess I am too.”

  Touché.

  “It got to the point where we were both simply acting out of pride.” A sheepish look crossed his face. “My determination to make the stores successful and prove him wrong was one of my biggest motivations. I wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t been driven by his lack of confidence.”

  Mercy nodded, wondering if she would have gone into law enforcement if her father hadn’t been so antigovernment.

  I didn’t select my career to shove it in his face.

  She was proud of who she’d become. Part of her was also pleased to show him that she hadn’t grown horns while working for the FBI.

  “Where were you the night your father was murdered?” Ava asked.

  Christian took a deep breath. “I fully expected you to ask that question, but I’ve got to say . . . even being prepared, it still hits me in the chest like a bullet.” He looked straight at Ava. “I was here. I haven’t left Bend in two weeks. Next you’ll want an alibi?”

  Ava nodded.

  Christian winced. “All I have for an alibi is Brent Rollins. He lives on the grounds and manages the estate. I didn’t see him that night, but he’s usually aware of my comings and goings. Ask him.”

  “He lives in this house?” Eddie asked.

  “No, he lives in one of the cabins about a hundred yards east of here. They’re blocked by the trees, so he may have not seen that I was home that night.”