Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Doug called before Jack could reach out to him.

Warrants could usually be processed through an online app, but with someone as high up the chain as Robert Lidle, a judge had to be called and persuaded. Fortunately, it didn't take much persuading.

Jack and I had stepped into the music room like we had the day before so Jack could talk to Judge Wisner, and Doug called seconds after they'd disconnected.

"Doug," Jack said. "What's up?"

"Got a hit on Astrid Nielsen," Doug said. "I saw her appointment before the judge pop up and her release on bail. I thought it was odd because she's not from here, so I'd consider her a flight risk. She still has family in the Netherlands."

"The judge is friends with Robert Lidle," Jack said. "He assured the judge that she'd be under house arrest on Lidle property, so the judge agreed."

"Yeah, well, I started digging anyway," Doug said. "I found some inconsistencies with her background. And then I found sealed files. Astrid Nielsen didn't exist before twenty-five years ago. She's got a birth certificate and all the necessary documentation. But when you peel back the layers things get more interesting. She did graduate from the University of Copenhagen. Four years before her profile says she did. She's also did a master's degree in linguistics."

"That tracks with what she said about the Lidles wanting staff who spoke multiple languages," I said.

"You know who else likes people with degrees in linguistics?" Doug asked. "Government agencies and terrorist organizations. When you look at some of the black-bag missions that Alan Goble was on, they coincide with places Astrid traveled too. But get this, that travel also coincided with trips Robert Lidle and his family made together."

"So you're saying that Robert Lidle, Astrid Nielsen, and Alan Goble have a history that far surpasses their relationship as employer and employee," Jack said.

"That's what I'm saying," Doug said. "This is an international trafficking ring. And these guys are nobody. They're just people assigned to be in a certain position. Someone who has ties to Congress and is a lobbyist, and a couple of people embedded in different alphabet agencies. Whoever is at the head of this organization will have people in every major area of society—churches and clergy, law enforcement, judges, the postal service, and your local real estate broker. The money just flows between them. These kids that are taken are just commodities, no different than any business deal they're making."

"So why would Robert Lidle muddy his own pool by using his own family members?" I asked.

"My guess is money," Jack said.

"And bingo," Doug said. "Kitty's father acquired Robert's father's company to keep them from going bankrupt. Robert came to Kitty with nothing, and he started getting spousal payments starting the first month after they married. He's worth a few million dollars at best. Margot is sending you some information on some of his property. He's got basic stocks and investments, but he's not great at it and he's a big spender, so he's not accumulated as much as he should have over the forty years they've been married. At least not in the easy-to-find accounts. Kitty is worth three billion dollars, and all the Lazarus money and holdings can only pass to blood descendants.

"Phin was given the company as the oldest male child, but the remainder of the estate, including all the real estate and the family homes, is divided between the three equally. Each of the grandchildren has a trust that includes company stock, real estate, and cash money."

"So it wouldn't have paid for Robert to kill Kitty," Jack said.

"Definitely not," Doug said. "He essentially had unlimited funds to do what he wanted with her alive."

"And with her dead, there wasn't much point of him living," Jack said. "The noose was tightening around his neck if rumors got started about Emma and Evie. And with Kitty dead her money and influence would have been nonexistent to cover it up. He wouldn't have had a purpose for living by his way of thinking."

"And his funding for his extracurricular activities would have dried up," I said. "He would have been useless to whoever the Great and Powerful Oz over this whole thing is. You said he was only worth a few million in his regular accounts?"

"Yeah," Doug said. "Like I said, on the surface he's boring and bad with his money. No red flags with the SEC or IRS. Makes some money and spends a lot like the kept man he is. But he's got other accounts. A lot of other accounts. He's got millions overseas and in accounts in the Caymans. But get this, he doesn't spend from these accounts, at least not on a personal level. Millions of dollars move in and out quickly, and they're transferred so far up to seventy different accounts I've found."

"Payment accounts," Jack said. "A girl is sold, money goes in, she's transported to another country, and money goes out. He's not running those accounts. He's just the scapegoat."

"That was my take too," Doug said. "Robert Lidle is the only traceable name I could find. He'd go down hard if they were discovered. The difference is, the money being transferred into Alan Goble's and Astrid Nielsen's accounts in large amounts aren't coming from the international accounts. Once I peeled away the layers I found other accounts under Robert Lidle's name. It looks like he's spent the last forty years siphoning money from his wife. There's upward of a hundred and fifty million in those accounts.

"He's got a whole payroll of people for his sick operation," Doug said. "I've identified Astrid Nielsen's and Alan Goble's accounts, because I had a comparison, but it's going to take time to match names to account numbers for the rest of them. But my take is that Robert Lidle was doing his own trafficking side business, and he was using his family name to drive up the price."

"So basically he's such a perv he wasn't satisfied with raping other people's children, but he had to start on his own too. A bullet to his head isn't punishment enough."

"Sometimes you just have to let hell deal with them," Jack said, squeezing my arm. "Thanks for the update, Doug."

"Don't forget to look at the info Margot sent you," he reminded us. "I think we might have an origin location for where Evie was taken. You'll want to send a crime-scene team."

"Very good work," Jack said and disconnected.

"How do you want to handle this?" Jack asked Martinez.

Robert Lidle's attorneys had shown up, but not before Jack had gotten a warrant to confiscate all electronic devices on the property, and to keep any paperwork that was in the office on the premises so wills and trusts could be examined.

A suicide was always treated as a homicide until there was a conclusive ruling from the coroner.

Jerry Gryzbowski and Leonore Collins looked like the attorneys of billionaires, but knowing what we did now about Robert Lidle I wondered who they were really here for.

They were both dressed in suits that cost several thousand dollars, and Jerry was tall and his dark hair was stylishly silvered at the temples and his nails were well manicured.

Leonore was blond and built and had the kind of flawless skin and lips that only injections could conjure. It was fortunate that the warrant had come through before they'd arrived. I had a feeling they would have confiscated everything they could get their hands on and whatever information on them would never see the light of day again.

They seemed very nervous when they found out we had access to all of the electronics belonging to Robert Lidle.

"Who exactly are you here for?" Jack asked.

"We are representing all Lidle and Lazarus enterprises," Jerry said. "There are many delicate things that could go awry, especially now that Robert and Kitty are both dead. Competitors could use this as an opportunity to swoop in."

"I guess it's a good thing we're trying to solve a murder instead of corporate espionage," Jack said.

"It is unfortunate that Mr. Lidle took his own life," Leonore said, smiling at Jack. "But continuing to harass a family who is dealing with so much tragedy isn't going to look good for you in the papers."

"You don't say," Jack said dryly. "You have the warrants. Because of the situation we have agreed to question everyone here on the premises instead of arranging for everyone to come into interrogation. We appreciate your clients' cooperation."

Jack turned back to Martinez. "Who do you want first?"

"After your meeting this morning I think we need to talk to the three siblings. No spouses for now."

"Well then," Leonore said. "Let's all go into the conservatory and get this over with. Like you said, you have a killer to catch and this family has multiple funerals to plan."

We followed Jerry and Leonore into the room where they'd been sequestered before. It wasn't a comfortable room. It wasn't a comfortable house. It was all for show. Much like the family sitting in front of us.

"This treatment is absolutely ridiculous," Phin said to the lawyers. "We're not criminals. We're just trying to bury our parents. None of this is our fault."

"They're just going through the motions because they don't have anything else," Jerry said gruffly. "They're hoping something will shake loose and they'll actually be able to make an arrest for Evie's murder. But they don't like the fact that your father's head of security was identified as the one responsible for Evie's death."

"Is that true?" Everett asked, a small light of hope in his eyes. "It really was Alan?"

"There is no evidence to show that he was responsible for Evie's or your mother's deaths," Jack said. "And unfortunately Astrid Nielsen decided to take justice into her own hands and kill him."

"I'm glad he's dead," Phin said. "If he killed Evie and Mom I'm glad he's dead. And I won't apologize for it."

"Everett," Jack said. "Some very sensitive information has come to light this morning that we need to talk to the three of you about. None of you are suspects, and this isn't a formal interview. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Mr. Lidle," Leonore broke in, obviously seeing where Jack was going and trying to circumvent their exit. "We do not recommend you conduct any interviews, no matter how formal, without attorneys present. The company is in a very precarious situ?—"

"Out," Everett said interrupting. "Just the three of us."

"Don't be stupid, Ev," Phin said.

"If you don't like it you can get out too," Everett said. "I don't give a damn about the company. Never have. This is about my daughter and our dead parents. Either sit down and shut up or get out."

"Phin," Janet said softly. "Sit down and hear what they have to say. Please."

Phin stood stiffly, the attorneys flanked on either side of him. He was the heir apparent of the company so they knew where their bread was buttered.

"Fine," Phin said. "Leave us alone."

"Mr. Lidle," Jerry said.

"Leave us!" he yelled. And Jerry and Leonore left the conservatory and closed the door behind them. Phin didn't take a seat next to Everett and Janet on the couch. He stood sullenly in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Everett," Jack said. "Jaye and I saw Emma this morning."

There was a look of confusion on Everett's face, and Janet gasped next to him, her hand covering her mouth in surprise.

"My Emma?" he asked. "You've found her? Where is she? Is she all right? Oh, my God, she's not dead is she? I don't think I can go through this again."

"She's not dead," Jack said quickly. "I'm sorry. She's doing very well. She's okay. And she's safe."

"Safe?" he asked. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't she be safe? She was safe here. This is too much. You don't know what we went through with her. We gave her everything."

My attention turned to Janet and I saw she was weeping quietly, tears streaming down her cheeks as her brother went through all the emotions that he'd been dumped with over the last couple of days.

"Janet," I said gently. And going by instinct I said, "Emma wasn't safe here, was she?"

She looked at me out of solemn, sad eyes and shook her head. "No, she wasn't. None of us were."

Everett's head snapped to look at her and he said, "What? What are you talking about?"

"Did your father abuse you?" I asked.

Everett popped off the couch and started to prowl like a wild animal, his hands scrubbing over his face. Phin hadn't moved from his place in the corner. His face was like granite.

"I was twelve," she said. "Like Emma. Like Evie."

It was like listening to a ghost, a frail shell of a woman whose voice rang hollow and whose oxygen was slowly being choked off.

"I don't understand," Everett said, falling back down on the couch next to Janet. "I don't understand."

"We were always taught to present a united front," Janet said. "That no matter what happened in our lives or what the media reported, that we were supposed to smile and stay quiet. Everything was supposed to stay within the family. It's how it's always been, even when my mother was a girl. Decorum was always very important to her. You didn't air your dirty laundry for the world to see."

She glanced at Phin apologetically and then looked down at her hands.

"I was twelve," she repeated. "I loved my father. And I hated him. He made me think what he did to me was normal. Like we were a normal family. So I stayed quiet because that's what we were taught and because I didn't think I had a choice."

"Your mother knew?" I asked.

Janet nodded. "My mother was a strong woman. She wasn't intimidated by anyone. But she was intimidated by my father. I don't know how he kept her quiet or what he said to her to keep her subdued, but she knew what he did to me. I could see it in her eyes when she looked at me. But she just told me to keep my shoulders back and my chin up and to make something of myself to uphold the family name. So I did.

"And then when I was sixteen he gave me to one of his friends," she said, her eyes going blank and empty. "It was at an important dinner for all these heads of state, and even the president was there. Phin and Everett were there. And they let me come too. I felt like a princess and got to wear this beautiful pink gown."

Everett stared at his sister and then he reached over and took her hand.

"That was the first time he sold me to one of his friends," she said. "I burned the dress when we got back home, but he bought me a new car. And then he did it again, and I got sent on a European tour that summer, shopping wherever I wanted to shop. And then I went to college and I thought it would be over. That's the only time I ever yelled at him. I lost it, throwing things and breaking whatever I could get my hands on. I had so much anger in me.

"He told me if I didn't snap out of it and do what I was told that he'd have me institutionalized," she said. "And not at one of the resort rehab places some of my friends had gone to. But a place where they'd do shock treatments and experiment with drugs to keep you like a zombie. Part of me thought that would be a relief. But I was so trained to do what I was told that I went back to campus and waited for instructions.

"I would get these phone calls, almost always before my first class of the day. I'd be given a time and a location and I was supposed to be there with whatever instructions I was given. So I was. Like clockwork. And then money would show up into my account, or expensive gifts delivered to my dorm room—diamonds, trips, or anything I could've asked for."

"Oh, Janet," Everett said, and then he glanced over at Phin, looking for something—some kind of support or reassurance—but Phin seemed incapable of doing or saying anything.

"Could I have something to drink?" she asked.

Martinez slipped out of the room and then came back in with a bottle of water and handed it to her. Her voice had gone raspy and the tears had never stopped streaming down her cheeks. The dam had broken and there was no way to turn it off now that she'd started. I wondered how many years of tears she'd held in.

"I'd met Carson in one of my classes my last semester of college," she continued. "He was so sweet and kind, but I rejected him. How could I have a normal relationship? I'd already been accepted to Stanford for law school. I thought if I moved across the country that I could escape. So I moved. And Carson never stopped calling me and trying to be my friend. And I guess moving to California was the right thing to do because I never got another early morning call again. It was over. Just like that. As if I'd imagined the whole thing. Dad never spoke of it. So it was easier to pretend it never happened.

"Carson doesn't know," she said, choking on a sob. "How could I ever tell him something so shameful?"

"Carson loves you," Everett said. "He's always stood by you. No matter what."

She nodded, but she wept bitterly and she grasped Everett's hand as if it were a lifeline. "Please don't hate me. Please forgive me."

"What Dad did wasn't your fault," Everett said. "You were a child." There was an anger in his voice that he was keeping on a tight leash. I could see his struggle for control in his movements.

"No, you don't understand," she said, almost pleading. "I never thought he'd hurt Emma. I never wanted to think of him as someone who was evil. But he was. I could see it in his face the first time he raped me. I knew then he hated me. Because it wasn't love. And then Carson and Jason and I came home for Christmas a few years ago and I caught Emma drinking from one of the decanters Mom kept stashed around the house. She was already drunk. Defiant and rebellious. And I knew."

Her breathing became harsh and jagged and she tightened her grip on his hand as if she were afraid he was going to pull away. Everett's face had gone pale.

"I knew and I didn't say anything. I wanted to. I wanted to help her. I wanted to tell you. And I think Dad knew that because he told me what a special boy Jason was, and that I really needed to be more aware of the harm that could come to him now that I'd been elected to Congress. He said it would be a shame if something happened to him because of me." A sob broke in her voice again. "He was just a little boy. I had to protect him. But I couldn't protect him and Emma at the same time. And we just went home and I said I was too busy to come home again the next Christmas and the one after that. Please don't hate me."

Everett dropped his head so it almost touched his knees, and I could see him trying to get his breathing under control—deep breath in, slow exhale out—and he repeated it several times.

"I don't hate you, Janet," he said softly. "But I hate him." He looked up at me and asked, "Did my father kill Evie? Did he do all those terrible things to her and kill her and leave her alone in the park?"

"I'll run a DNA test to confirm," I told him, "But we don't believe your father was Evie's killer. He doesn't have the defensive wounds, but that doesn't mean he wasn't involved."

"Wait a minute," Phin said, stepping away from his corner and joining the conversation. "This is insanity. Do you hear what you're saying? This is our dad. If he was doing this stuff how could Ev and I not have known? I'm just supposed to believe dad has been raping and killing girls for the past thirty years?"

"God, for once, Phin, could you not be just like him?" Everett asked. "Of course he did it. You think Mom drank herself to sleep every night for another reason? You think Emma went from a sweet straight-A student overnight to a disturbed and angry teenager? Our dad was a monster."

"What does that make us?" Phin asked darkly.

"The end of an era," Everett said.

He turned back to Janet and put his arm around her. She was frail and seemed barely able to hold herself up, and she partially collapsed against her brother's side.

"I hate him more that he was a coward and killed himself," Everett said mostly to himself. "That was a trip to hell that was much too easy. If I'd known all this before I would have pulled the trigger myself."