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‘No,’ said Ren. She paused. ‘Unless he’s got some children of love tucked away somewhere … which, let’s face it, they always do.’ She paused. ‘Could Laura Flynn have been pregnant with her master’s baby?’
‘And he reported her missing to deflect …’ said Janine.
‘Wouldn’t anyone assume that an autopsy would include DNA testing of the fetus?’ said Ren.
‘You’re assuming that anyone thought that the body would ever be found,’ said Janine.
‘You are correct, I was,’ said Ren, ‘which is a rookie assumption. So whoever killed her was interrupted before they could remove the body and dump it? What are we leaning toward …?’
‘I don’t like leaning,’ said Janine. ‘Obvious one first: failed carjacking, which we can’t rule out, but is definitely at the bottom of the list, because of the call to me. Alternatives: random shooting. She’s driving along for a pre-arranged meeting with Person A. She pulls into the side of the road. Person B, the shooter, comes up, fires, drives away. Or the victim’s driving along for a pre-arranged meeting with the shooter …’
‘Or,’ said Ren, ‘she’s got no plans to meet anyone, the killer flags her down pretending he needs help, she stops, he pulls open the passenger door, she reaches for a gun in the glove box or he reaches for the glove box where maybe she has money …’
They went quiet.
‘What if,’ said Ren, ‘our bandits are driving by and they just shoot, they just want to cause a distraction … they just kill the first person they see …’
‘Or they killed her before the robbery,’ said Janine. ‘They had chosen their getaway route; having a body there would stop whoever may have been pursuing them.’
‘What if someone else knew about a pre-arranged meeting and killed her?’ said Ren. ‘Someone she knew or someone the other person knew. Was the other person there? Were they shot? Did they witness something?’
‘Our guys will be checking local hospitals …’
‘There’s also the possibility that our bandits are witnesses …’ said Ren. ‘And they’re not exactly going to be lining up to help.’
‘Maybe she was one of them,’ said Janine. ‘Maybe she was to take the cash and go one way, they were to go the other, so if they were pulled over they’d have nothing … she’s home and dry with the money.’
‘Maybe,’ said Ren, ‘the word maybe is making my head spin.’
‘What if,’ said Janine, ‘she was with someone who turned on her and killed her … someone she knew?’
‘“What if” is just another maybe,’ said Ren.
‘You should write country songs,’ said Janine.
‘I write them in my head all the time,’ said Ren.
‘Sorry … back to Robert Prince … inherited wealth … inherited from where?’ said Janine.
‘Robert Prince is heir to the Prince family millions … hundreds of millions. He is the son of Acora Prince and Desmond Lamb. His great-grandfather was Patrick “Prince” O’Sullivan, son of Irish emigrants who settled in Butte, Montana, when they fled the potato famine. They had three sons, the most successful of which was Patrick. Patrick got involved in copper mining, met and married his wife in Butte, made lots of money, made even more when he sold the mine. The last name Prince is because … do we need to know this?’
‘Yes,’ said Janine. ‘For curiosity’s sake.’
‘We both know that curiosity has a record …’ said Ren.
‘That’s appalling,’ said Janine.
‘OK,’ said Ren, ‘the Prince last name is because the O’Sullivan family looked after the grounds of a castle back in Ireland and the locals used to joke that the O’Sullivan father had ideas above his station and that he thought he was the prince himself. So Patrick, who by all accounts was a great joker, changed his name to Prince when he became a big shot. Patrick’s son, Walter Prince, is Robert’s grandfather.’
‘Well, Acora Prince certainly liked the name, seeing as she didn’t change it to her husband’s and didn’t allow her son to either,’ said Janine. ‘Unusual for those times.’
‘Rich families are weird,’ said Ren.
‘So, there’s an Irish connection,’ said Janine. ‘The Princes. The Flynns. Where in Ireland are they from?’
‘The Princes? West Cork.’
‘And Laura Flynn’s from?’
‘Waterford,’ said Ren. She Googled a map of Ireland. ‘Well, they weren’t neighbors,’ she said, ‘they’re over one hundred and fifty miles apart.’
8 (#ulink_41824422-7d8a-5f6d-a9d4-1bfd6060d520)
Robert and Ingrid Prince’s holiday rental was eight miles south of Golden and designed to make the most of the spectacular view out over the front range.
‘It’s like a hotel,’ said Janine. She drove up to the gates.
‘It’s like a glass box,’ said Ren.
Janine pressed the intercom button. A woman answered.
‘Hello,’ said Janine, ‘I’m looking for Mrs Ingrid Prince?’
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘My name is Detective Janine Hooks, I’m from the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office, I’m here with SA Ren Bryce from the Rocky Mountain Safe Streets Task Force in Denver. We’d like to speak with you about Laura Flynn.’
‘Laura?’ said Ingrid. ‘Why? What is it? What’s happened?’
‘Could we please come through?’ said Janine.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, of course,’ said Ingrid.
The gates swung open. Janine drove in and parked beside a gold Range Rover.
‘Do they own this place?’ said Janine.
‘No, but they could – that’s the main thing,’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Janine. ‘OK, now let’s go hang with a Swedish former model, just in case we were feeling too good about ourselves.’
Everything about Ingrid Prince’s face said model – everything about her posture, her aura, the movement of her long limbs. She even managed to open the door with grace. She was wearing a floor-length gray strapless jersey dress with an oversized beige cotton cardigan. Her blonde hair was tied up and she had on a gray cotton headband. Her skin was flawless, unlined, glowing.
‘Come in, please,’ she said. ‘Take a seat.’
She gestured to an open-plan living area. There was a magnificent curved stone fireplace with a thick oak beam running the length of the chimney breast and an alcove beside it stacked with logs. On the floor in front lay a pristine rich cream rug. Three brown leather sofas were arranged in the center of the room around a solid, blocky coffee table in the style of a vintage suitcase.
After a moment’s seating panic, Ren and Janine sat side by side, and Ingrid Prince sat perpendicular.
‘Please,’ said Ingrid. ‘Just tell me.’
Janine leaned forward. ‘I’m afraid we found Laura Flynn’s body this afternoon close to Pike National Forest—’
‘Body?’ said Ingrid. ‘Pike National Forest? I’m sorry, I’m not following …’
Ren shifted forward in her seat. ‘Mrs—’
‘And where’s Pike National Forest?’ said Ingrid.
‘I’m sorry to tell you that we found Laura about sixty miles south of here,’ said Ren.
Relief flooded Ingrid Prince’s face. ‘No, that’s not Laura. Laura’s in Chicago. She just didn’t make it back. She must have missed her flight. My husband was just concerned that—’
‘Mrs Prince, I’m afraid we have been able to identify her body,’ said Ren. ‘She was the victim of a shooting. Her car was found—’
‘No,’ said Ingrid. ‘She wasn’t driving! She was flying, then she was getting a cab, then … a shooting? No. I don’t understand … No.’ She started crying hysterically. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, please. Please don’t tell me this happened to Laura. Please. Her baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. The baby. Did … did they save the baby?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘I’m afraid that was not possible.’
Ingrid broke down. She clutched her stomach.
It was only then that Ren realized that Ingrid Prince had a tiny bump of her own.
9 (#ulink_088cec8c-5862-5b30-8058-72319afec7ec)
Ingrid Prince followed Ren’s gaze down to her belly. She looked up at her.
‘I know … can you believe it?’ she said. ‘Laura finds out she’s pregnant and, two months later, I do.’
‘So, you’re four months along?’ said Ren.
Ingrid nodded. She welled up. ‘This is not right. Poor Laura … the baby … and … I get to …’ She shook her head. ‘I’m still here. My baby’s here. It’s too much.’
‘I’m going to make a call to our victim advocate,’ said Janine. ‘She can come stay with you until … are you expecting your husband back tonight?’
Ingrid nodded. ‘He’ll come back now.’
‘OK,’ said Janine. ‘We’ll have someone wait with you, if you think that’s something you’d like?’
‘Thank you,’ said Ingrid. ‘Yes.’
Ren waited until Janine had made the call.
‘Was this a robbery?’ said Ingrid. ‘Was anything taken from the car?’
‘Her purse was there, her suitcase …’ said Ren. ‘We don’t know what else she may have had with her.’
‘And she was just found, alone, in her car …’ said Ingrid.
‘Yes,’ said Ren.
‘What a horrible way to … I just didn’t think this was going to be … the news I would hear. I was worried about her when she didn’t return, but I was worried because she was pregnant, you know, that she might have taken ill. I thought maybe she had been admitted into hospital. Apart from that, I thought maybe she had met up with the father of her baby … I know the relationship didn’t end well.’
‘Do you know his name?’ said Ren.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t,’ said Ingrid. ‘Laura mentioned an old boyfriend called Johnny once or twice, but she never gave the name of the baby’s father. She said that she didn’t want anything to do with him. She just said that he was bad news. And, sorry – he’s Irish … that’s the only other thing I know.’
‘Did she say where he lived?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Ingrid.
‘But you thought she had met up with him in Chicago?’ said Janine.
‘No, no – I thought that maybe he could have known her friend, or followed Laura … or waited with the friend if he had heard Laura was going to visit. I’ve had all day to think these things … but nothing came close to the reality.’
‘Does the father of the baby know that she’s pregnant?’ said Janine.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ingrid.
‘When did Laura tell you she was pregnant?’ said Ren.
‘About six weeks ago,’ said Ingrid.
‘And did she plan to continue to work for you?’ said Janine.
‘Absolutely,’ said Ingrid. ‘Obviously she would be taking some time off, but …’ Her voice cracked and she began to cry again. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I just can’t believe this is happening. The baby, everything, it’s just so sad. Laura’s had a tough time, she was a strong person to come through that, and this is what happens? It’s so wrong.’
‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘So, Laura’s baby was due in September …’
‘Yes,’ said Ingrid.
‘And what was the plan in terms of work?’ said Ren.
‘Well – we summer in the Hamptons,’ said Ingrid.
Summer is not a verb.
‘We were happy to hire staff there,’ said Ingrid, ‘and Laura would be back to work when she was ready. This might not sound orthodox, but, as I said, we’re like family.’
‘And, speaking of family,’ said Janine, ‘do you have details of Laura’s?’
‘That’s another tragic story,’ said Ingrid. ‘Her parents both passed away in Ireland within a few years of each other. Laura was still in college at the time. Laura’s sister, Saoirse, had already moved to New York and Laura followed her over. Within months of Laura arriving, her sister died.’
‘How?’ said Ren.
‘She was out … partying,’ said Ingrid. ‘It was Laura’s twenty-first. Saoirse fell down some stairs at a bar. She’d been drinking. It was just a freak thing.’
‘That’s a lot for Laura to have gone through for such a young woman,’ said Ren. ‘What kind of support did she have?’
