Chapter 6: Whitmore Makes His Move
Stuart Whitmore did not look like a man who dr*gged people's drinks.
He was sixty-eight, tan, and wore the kind of suit that cost more than most people's monthly rent.
He arrived at the hospital that afternoon — not the ICU, not the consultation rooms — but at the main entrance, with two attorneys and a document case, asking to speak with Raymond Carver's wife.
The receptionist called Paige.
Paige called Reyes.
Then she went downstairs.
Whitmore was standing near the entrance doors with his hands clasped in front of him.
He smiled when he saw her.
"Mrs.
Carver.
I'm so sorry about Raymond.
Terrible thing."
"What do you want, Mr.
Whitmore?"
He gestured toward a seating area near the window.
"Shall we sit?"
"I'd rather not."
His smile didn't move.
"I'll be brief, then.
Raymond's situation is going to become complicated very quickly.
There are questions about the management of his companies, questions about the power of attorney, questions about the substance found in his system." He tilted his head.
"Questions that could very easily point in the wrong direction."
"Toward me."
"I'm not saying that.
I'm saying these things have a way of becoming messy.
Especially when there are photographs that place a young wife alone with her elderly husband in a hotel room weeks before a suspicious incident."
Paige looked at him without expression.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's an observation." He reached into the document case and produced a single page.
"Raymond's Las Vegas properties — the Meridian, the Sable, and the Crosspoint — have been underperforming for three years.
I'm prepared to acquire all three at a fair valuation.
The transaction would be clean, fast, and it would remove a great deal of pressure from Raymond's estate during what is clearly a difficult time."
"Raymond's estate is not mine to sell."
"Not yet." He set the page on the arm of the nearest chair.
"But a wife's testimony carries weight.
Especially one who was present at the moment of the incident.
You could make this very simple, Mrs.
Carver.
Or you could make it very complicated."
"I see." She picked up the page, looked at it once, and set it back down.
"And the photos?"
"Handled.
Quietly.
As a gesture of goodwill."
"And if I say no?"
Whitmore's smile finally moved.
It didn't become warmer.
"Then I'm afraid the next few weeks are going to be very unpleasant for you."
Paige looked at the two attorneys standing behind him.
One was looking at his phone.
The other was looking at the floor.
"Mr.
Whitmore," she said, "I want you to know something.
This conversation has been recorded."
The attorney on the left looked up.
"I don't believe you," Whitmore said.
But something shifted behind his eyes.
Paige reached into her jacket pocket and placed her phone on the chair beside the document page.
The recording app was running.
The timer read 4:12.
Whitmore stared at it.
"Detective Reyes asked me to keep it running if you made contact," she said.
"He said you probably would." She picked the phone up.
"He's going to want to hear this."
Whitmore's jaw tightened.
For the first time since he'd walked in, he looked his age.
"You have no idea what you're doing," he said quietly.
"I think I do." She stepped back.
"You should leave now."
He didn't move immediately.
His eyes went to the document page still sitting on the chair arm, then back to her.
"This isn't finished," he said.
"No," she agreed.
"It isn't."
He picked up the document case.
His attorneys fell in behind him.
Paige watched them walk through the entrance doors and into the afternoon sun.
Her hand was shaking.
She pressed it flat against her thigh until it stopped.
Then she called Reyes.
"He came," she said when he answered.
"I know.
I'm watching the entrance footage now." A pause.
"You did well."
"He's going to move fast.
If he thinks the recording exists—"
"He already called his attorney from the parking lot," Reyes said.
"We're monitoring." Another pause, longer this time.
"Paige.
We found Decker."
She stopped breathing for a second.
"Where?"
"He was picked up an hour ago at Miami International.
He had a one-way ticket to Cancún." Reyes's voice was steady.
"He also had a phone.
And the photos."
"All of them?"
"All of them.
And about forty other files we're still going through." A beat.
"You should come in tomorrow morning.
There's something in those files you need to see."
The call ended.
Paige stood in the hospital entrance, people moving past her in both directions.
May you like
She didn't know yet what was in the files.
But she knew, the way you know a storm has passed even before the clouds clear, that the ground had shifted.
