“Become a real girl?”
“Sure,” she answered, sidestepping his provocation.
“That must have come as a huge relief. I remember how determined you were in DC. Feisty.” He shook a defiant fist as if he found the memory adorable. “So why didn’t you hold up your end?”
“What are you talking about? I called you, remember?”
“Sure,” Clarke said agreeably. “Eventually. But not right away. First you drove out to the farm. What were you doing out there?”
“I needed to see for myself.”
“That she was dead.”
She nodded.
“And she was,” he prompted. “And then you called me.”
She nodded again, tired of talking in circles.
“Why did you sound so scared?”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“No, I’d say terrified is more accurate. I can play the recording for you,” he offered.
“Please don’t.”
“Who was at the farm with you?”
That caught her off guard. “What?”
“You heard me.” Clarke was up and out of his seat, looming over her. “We know someone was there, so don’t piss me off by denying it. It was Greer, wasn’t it? What else was a part of your deal? What did you do for him out there?”
She finally saw it. What Clarke had been circling this whole time. “You think Levi Greer killed his wife.”
“Do I?” Clarke said, interest spiking. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I found a dead body and all you really want to talk about is how Levi Greer was at the farm with me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Clarke glanced up at the camera as if looking for confirmation. “You’re not wrong.”
She replayed her conversation with Greer. He’d been a lot of things, but she hadn’t gotten the feeling he’d killed his wife. And what kind of murderer begged you to lead the police to the body? One who hadn’t known his wife had a clone or a GPS chip. He’d have had no choice but to appear super proactive and helpful to cover his ass.
“You really think it’s him?” she asked.
“Oh, I know it’s him. He’s being questioned in Richmond as we speak. Truth is, we’ve been looking at him since the beginning. He always claimed his wife ran off, but a woman goes missing? Start with the man in her life. Especially if the wife is having an affair.”
“An affair?” Con said, genuinely shocked. She’d never cheated in her life, not unless you counted Billy Tomlinson in the sixth grade.
“Looks that way. The GPS data from her vehicle shows Constance D’Arcy was making regular trips to Charlottesville whenever Greer was on the road with the team. She’d stay overnight but never in a hotel. No debit or credit purchases while she was there either—not so much as a stick of gum. Always left her car in the same public garage, including when she disappeared. Almost like she didn’t want anyone to know where she was going or who she was seeing.”
“That doesn’t mean she was having an affair.”
“Makes no difference either way. All that matters is what Greer believed. And he sure thought so. Witness statements from his neighbors describe constant fighting in the house. We’re in the process of getting a warrant to access his LFD, but text messages between Greer and his teammates don’t paint a flattering picture. The wife of one of his teammates who works at a domestic violence shelter says she confronted D’Arcy about bruises on her arm and cheekbone a month ago, but D’Arcy said it was an accident.”
“So if you know all this, why do you need me to say he was at the farm?”
“First off, because he was. You know it, and I know it. He missed practice yesterday, called out sick after your visit but wasn’t at home all day.” Clarke leaned against the edge of the table and flipped through his notebook. “Greer owns two vehicles. A 2039 Mercedes SUV, and a 2012 Ford Mustang Boss 302. Guess which one he took? Here’s a hint—it’s the thirty-year-old vintage sports car with no auto-drive navigation system. So where was he all day?”
“What does Greer say?”
“Says he drove up into the Shenandoah to do some thinking. Conveniently the part of Virginia with the fewest surveillance cameras. Turned off his LFD too. Said he wanted to be alone. Zero digital footprint. We’re checking it out, but no one is going to say they saw him up there.”
“Why?” Con asked.
“Because he was at the farm with you,” Clarke said with utter certainty. “All the evidence I have is circumstantial, so if he lied and was at the farm with you, then I’ve got him. What I don’t know is why you’re protecting him.” Clarke sat back down, downshifting into a soothing, reasonable tone of voice. “Look, I was hard on you back in DC, I can admit that. So if you made a deal with Greer to help him tamper with the crime scene or destroy evidence—”