Page 107 of Dark Room (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 2)

Normally, Monty would have explained that there were all different methods of persuasion. But in this case, it wasn’t necessary.

“Karly, when you spoke to your son’s adoptive parents, did they give you their names?”

“Nina and Ed Vaughn—why?”

“Because I know your son. His name’s Jonah. He’s a great kid. The more ironic part is that Arthur knows him, too. And he likes him.”

“Are you serious?” Karly gasped.

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“How? Through whom? Since when?”

“That’s a long, complicated story. I’ll get into it later, when I see you—which I will.” A smug spark lit Monty’s eyes. “Give me those few hours to organize things. Then head over to my office, say around five o’clock. The address is on my card. Not only are we going to spring this on Arthur Shore tonight, but we’re going to get exactly what we want from him.”

THIRTY-ONE

Monty’s adrenaline was pumping when he arrived at Lane’s.

Morgan answered the door when he knocked. She waited for him to identify himself, then double-checked that fact by peeking through the peephole, just to be on the safe side. Clearly convinced, she unlocked and opened the door.

“Nice precautions,” Monty praised, striding in and shrugging out of his parka. “I’m proud of you.”

; “Thanks.” Morgan eyed him speculatively and frowned. It was the first time she’d seen Monty since his run-in with the falling brick. “Lane said you were fine. But some of those facial cuts look pretty deep. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Just pissed. And even more determined to nail our perp’s ass to the wall.” He tossed his jacket on a chair.

“You’re certainly fired up,” Morgan observed. “Did Barbara provide any answers?”

“It was a very productive meeting.” He paused, studied her expression, then frowned. “You look lousy. Did something happen?”

“Jonah’s latest CBC wasn’t great, which means he’s losing blood. His vitals are holding, so there’s no immediate rush for surgery, but the doctors want to do a transfusion, see how it goes. Unfortunately, the only compatible donor is Lenny, and he’s not their prime choice. He’s got a heart condition and he’s on a blood-thinning drug.”

“So Lenny has the same blood type as Jonah. Interesting. Well, I might have an alternative. We’ll know tonight. Keep your fingers crossed.”

“What’s going on?” Lane stepped out of the photo lab.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Morgan’s been rummaging through her parents’ memorabilia,” Lane replied. “She just found the negatives from the photos taken at the Kellermans’ party. Fortunately, Elyse left them in the packet of photos she had developed after the initial trauma of the murders was over. In the meantime, I’ve been enhancing more of the crime-scene shots. I did find one interesting thing. There’s a round circular spot on the floor where something was definitely removed. It’s about a foot in diameter and it’s near the door. Probably a Spackle container or trash receptacle of some kind. The basement’s a pit—filthy, dusty, loaded with stones and debris. Yet that one space is clean as a whistle.”

“Someone got rid of the container at the murder scene.” Monty was already heading in the direction of the lab. “Yeah,” he confirmed, having bent over to study that section of the enhanced photo. “The killer must have tossed something in there that would have given him away, so he got rid of the whole thing.”

“Monty,” Morgan interrupted, hovering in the doorway. “You never answered my question. What did Barbara tell you?”

Monty cleared his throat. “For now, all I can tell you is that I know who sent you that Tyvek. It wasn’t BS; it was meant to protect you—a way to reciprocate the kindness your mother showed her.”

Frustration flashed across Morgan’s face. “Monty, I’m your client. I’m the one you’re supposed to be open with.”

“I’m being as open as I can, under the circumstances. This situation is complicated. Once again, I’m going to have to ask you to trust me.”

Clearly, she was fighting back tears. “Give me something. Anything.”

A long pause. “Remember what you told me about your mother’s final journal entries? The ones she made during the last few months of her life?”

“Of course.”