Chapter 29: Claire Voss

"Eight years ago," I said. "What were you writing?"

"Transfer authorizations," Claire said. "Heinrich brought work home sometimes. I was a notary. He needed signatures on foreign account documents and I didn't ask enough questions."

"You notarized Richard's shell company paperwork."

"Some of it. Not all." A short silence. "I found out what it was two years later. By then Heinrich was in too deep to walk away and I had a signature on documents that made me look complicit."

"So Richard had you both," I said.

"Yes."

Bruno pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped.

"Why are you calling now?" I asked.

"Because Heinrich was just detained at that airfield," she said. "And Richard promised him that would never happen. Richard promised him a lot of things."

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Outside the airfield," she said. "I drove him here. I watched them take him."

I looked at Bruno.

"Stay where you are," I said. "Don't leave."

I gave Bruno a look and he was already turning the car around.

Fifteen minutes back to the airfield.

Claire Voss was standing outside the terminal entrance in a grey coat with her hands in her pockets and her face turned toward the road when we pulled up. Late fifties, composed in the way people are when they have been afraid for a long time and have run out of room for it.

She got into the back seat without being asked.

"What didn't make it into the documents?" Bruno said.

"A meeting," Claire said. "Three years ago. Richard, Cassano, and two men I didn't recognize. Heinrich drove Richard to it. I went along because we were supposed to have dinner afterward." She looked at her hands. "I waited in the car. But the building had glass doors and I could see the table from where I was parked."

"What happened?" I asked.

"One of the two men I didn't recognize," she said. "He left the meeting early. He was angry. Raised his voice in the lobby loud enough that I could hear it through the car window." She looked up. "He said Richard had already sold the secondary records to someone else. That Cassano didn't know and when he found out there would be consequences."

"Sold them to who?" Bruno asked.

"I didn't hear a name," Claire said. "But three weeks later that man was dead. Road accident outside Geneva."

The car was very quiet.

"You think Richard arranged it," I said.

"I think Richard solves problems efficiently," she said. "I've watched him do it for eight years."

Bruno looked at me.

"The secondary records," he said. "The ones in Voss's document case tonight. If Richard sold copies to someone else three years ago, there's a second set somewhere."

"In someone else's hands," I said.

"Someone who paid for them," Bruno said. "Which means someone who had a reason to want that information and the money to buy it quietly."

"Did your husband know who the buyer was?" I asked Claire.

"No. Richard kept that separate." She paused. "But I know the man who arranged the transaction. The intermediary."

"Who?" Bruno said.

Claire looked at him.

"His name is Reeves," she said.

Bruno went very still.

I felt it before I understood it.

Detective Reeves.

The investigator who had walked through Sara's hotel room door an hour ago with Richard in handcuffs.

The investigator who now had Sara in a room somewhere giving her full statement.

"He's with Sara right now," I said.

Bruno already had his phone out dialing Luca.

The call rang out.

He tried again but nothing.

He dialed a different number.

Straight to voicemail.

He lowered the phone slowly.

"Who else can reach the investigators directly?" I asked.

"Harlan was the connection," Bruno said. "Everyone else on that case ran through him."

Claire was watching us from the back seat. "Is the woman in danger?"

Bruno looked at me.

Sara had walked out of that hotel room between two investigators and handed herself over believing it was safe.

She didn't know about Reeves.

Nobody had told her.

"We need to find where they took her," I said.

"The station on Millward Street," Claire said. "That's Reeves's jurisdiction. Heinrich has been there twice."

Bruno started the engine.

He drove fast and I sat with my phone trying every number I had for anyone connected to the case and getting nothing but voicemail and unanswered rings while the city moved past the windows and the clock on the dashboard read nine fifty-eight.

One minute past the flight time.

Voss was detained.

Richard was in custody.

But Reeves was sitting in a room with Sara Minetti right now and Sara didn't know what he was.

My phone rang.

Sara's prepaid number.

I answered before the second ring.

"He knows," she said. "Reeves. He knows everything I just said. He's been on the phone with someone since we got here and it's not his supervisor." Her voice dropped further. "Phoebe. He just locked the door."

“Stay on the line,” I said, already leaning forward in my seat. “Don’t let him know you’re on the phone.”

“I’m not,” Sara whispered. I could hear the faint shift of fabric, like she had turned slightly away. “He stepped out for a second. I called you the moment he did.”

Bruno pushed the car faster.

“Listen carefully,” I said. “Is there another exit in the room?”

“A back door,” she said. “But it’s locked. No handle on this side.”

“Windows?”

“Frosted glass that was too small.”

Bruno cut through a red light.

“Sara,” he said, his voice steady but urgent, “you need to stay calm. Don’t confront him. Don’t let him think you’re suspicious.”

“I’m past suspicious,” she said. “He’s not even pretending anymore.”

A sound came through the line.

A door opening.

Sara’s breathing shifted instantly.

“He’s back,” she said, barely audible.

“Put the phone somewhere hidden,” I said quickly. “Keep the line open.”

“Sit down, Ms. Minetti,” he said. “We’re not finished yet.”

No response from Sara.

“Your statement was very thorough,” he continued. “Almost too thorough.”

“He’s stalling,” Bruno said under his breath. “Waiting for instructions.”

From whoever bought the records.

From whoever didn’t want Sara talking.

I gripped the phone tighter.

On the line, a chair scraped lightly.

Then Sara’s voice, controlled but edged. “I told you everything.”

“I’m sure you believe that,” Reeves said.

A pause.

Then something sharper beneath his tone.

“The problem is,” he added, “you told it to the wrong person.”

Bruno accelerated again.

“How far?” I asked.

“Five minutes,” he said, mennnnnn that's too long.

On the line, I heard movement again.

“Sara,” I said, louder now. “Sara, answer me.” yet no response.

“You should have left when you had the chance.”

“Stay with me,” I said into the phone, even though I didn’t know if she could respond. “We’re coming. Do you hear me? We’re almost there.”