Page 102 of The Family Cross

“I’ll head over there once Taylor establishes time of death,” I said. “Thanks, Bree.”

“Anything for you, baby,” she said.

I went back into the room. After forensics documented the body in situ, we rolled it over, hoping to find a cell phone. We didn’t.

“Just means we’ll have to do this the hard way and get the info from his service provider,” Sampson said.

“Amazing we have that tool when we need it,” I said.

We left the condemned building late that afternoon, shortly after the body was removed. Janice Taylor had told us that Frost died roughly forty-five hours ago, which put the gun at his head at just about the time he should have been on a flight to Atlanta.

We drove straight to the Frost and Lear offices in Bethesda. The sight of me and Sampson was more than enough to rattle Randi, the receptionist.

“Is it bad?” she said, wringing her hands. “I’ve been trying to reach Mr. Frost for almost two days, but he does this kind of thing sometimes. Not answering me, I mean. That’s why I’m here on a Saturday. I thought he might call the office.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Frost is dead, Randi,” I said.

She reacted like I’d slapped her and sat down hard. “What? No.”

“He was murdered at an apartment building in Northeast the night before last,” Sampson said. “One of the derelict ones the company owns.”

The young receptionist was crying. “The Northeast one? This whole time? Dead?”

“We believe so,” I replied. “Randi, do you know why he went to that apartment building when he was supposed to be flying to Atlanta?”

“No, I don’t,” she said. “It’s not like he confided in me.”

“His phone’s missing,” Sampson said. “Who was he talking with before he left?”

Randi threw her hands up in the air. “I have no idea. All Mr. Frost did was talk on the phone, all day long. One call after another.”

After she composed herself, the receptionist gave us the number for the company’s corporate counsel, Blanche Gray, an attorney in Bethesda. Randi said she always answered her phone, even on weekends.

Sampson and I stepped away from the receptionist; Sampson called Gray and put it on speaker. After informing her of Jeffrey Frost’s death, he asked who would control the various projects that Frost had had in development.

“I’m kind of in shock here, Detective, and I’m not at liberty to disclose that,” Gray said. “Attorney-client privilege.”

“Except this is a murder investigation, Counselor,” Sampson growled. “Who controls the developments now that Frost is dead?”

“It’s… complicated,” Gray stammered. “Depends on each development. There are syndicates of investors, each of whom could lay claim to pieces of them. I’d have to go through each project to tell you exactly.”

I said, “Can you tell us if Tatiana Volt is one of those investors?”

After a brief silence, she said, “I can confirm that Mrs. Volt is an active investor in several projects, but I cannot say with certainty whether she would take control of any of them.”

“Sounds like a dodge,” Sampson said.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Gray said. “I’ve been on the job for only three months. I came in after their old counsel died of a heart attack. I would have to come to the Frost and Lear offices and study the various deals before I could give you anything definitive.”

“Then I suggest you do that,” I said. “We’ll be waiting.”

Sampson had no sooner hung up with the attorney than my phone rang.

“It’s Kane,” I told Sampson as I answered. “Chief?”

“Sean Brundage is armed and on the move,” the chief of detectives said. “Hayes and Winthrop are following him. They think the Firebug’s about to strike again.”

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