PRAISE FOR DEBRA WEBB

  “Trust No One is Debra Webb at her finest. Political intrigue and dark family secrets will keep readers feverishly turning pages to uncover all the twists in this stunning thriller.”

  —Melinda Leigh, #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author of Cross Her Heart

  “A wild, twisting crime thriller filled with secrets, betrayals, and complex characters that will keep you up until you reach the last darkly satisfying page. A five-star beginning to Debra Webb’s explosive series!”

  —Allison Brennan, New York Times bestselling author

  “Debra Webb once again delivers with Trust No One, a twisty and gritty page-turning procedural with a cast of complex characters and a compelling cop heroine in Detective Kerri Devlin. I look forward to seeing more of Detectives Devlin and Falco.”

  —Loreth Anne White, Washington Post bestselling author of In the Deep

  “Trust No One is a gritty and exciting ride. Webb skillfully weaves together a mystery filled with twists and turns. I was riveted as each layer of the past peeled away, revealing dark secrets. An intriguing cast of complicated characters, led by the compelling Detective Kerri Devlin, had me holding my breath until the last page.”

  —Brianna Labuskes, Washington Post bestselling author of Girls of Glass

  “Debra Webb’s name says it all.”

  —Karen Rose, New York Times bestselling author

  OTHER TITLES BY DEBRA WEBB

  Trust No One

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2021 by Debra Webb

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542091770

  ISBN-10: 1542091772

  Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant

  There are many amazing people in my life, but one in particular has always had my back.

  He has cheered me on when I succeeded and picked me up when I failed.

  I cannot imagine this life without him.

  I love you, husband!

  CONTENTS

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Take my hand and you will be invisible.

  1

  Today

  Saturday, April 17

  7:15 a.m.

  Birmingham

  The rear passenger door slammed, and she was alone in the back seat of the car. The driver glanced at her in his rearview mirror.

  She looked away. Pretended she wasn’t afraid. But she was. She had never been more afraid in her life.

  This neighborhood was one she’d been to before but only to this one house. The house where bad things were kept secret . . . where empty eyes stared out from the walls and something evil lived.

  Her body began to shake. She tried to stop it. Couldn’t.

  No one else is going to die. No one. Not again.

  She told herself these things over and over. Today it would end.

  No more hiding the truth. No more secrets.

  Her gaze shifted to the bag on the floor. She’d never seen this bag before. Plain. Black. Like something for carrying a laptop.

  She glanced beyond the car window to the house. This might be her only opportunity to look inside. Snooping in other people’s bags wasn’t a very nice thing to do. She’d been taught better. But she had to be sure.

  After leaning forward, she unzipped the bag with shaking hands, then pulled the sides open wider.

  The shiny blade of a big knife reflected the sun streaming through the windows. Duct tape and a large crumpled garbage bag were stuffed beneath it.

  A new blast of fear rushed through her veins.

  No. No. No. She shook her head. No!

  No one else could die.

  I don’t want to die.

  Turning fourteen hadn’t made her as brave as she’d thought. She had to run . . . she should never have taken that call. She should have stayed home and not sneaked out of the house.

  She had to find a way to contact her mom and . . .

  The car’s rear passenger door opened once more.

  It was too late.

  2

  Five Days Earlier

  Monday, April 12

  10:30 a.m.

  Leo’s Tobacconist

  Oak Grove Road

  Homewood

  The two victims were secured to chairs and then shot execution style—in the back of the head. With no exit wounds, the weapon was likely a .22. Something small caliber and intended for up close work. The typical MO for these types of kills. The medical examiner and the Crime Scene Unit had been summoned.

  Detective Kerri Devlin turned her full attention back to the responding officer as he described the events that had occurred before she and her partner received the call.

  “Tara McGill arrived on the scene at nine thirty to prepare for opening at ten. She entered through the rear exit.” Officer Eugene Franklin gestured to the door at the back of the stockroom. “According to McGill, all employees come and go this way. Once inside, she discovered the owner, Leonard ‘Leo’ Kurtz”—Franklin pointed his notepad to the older victim, sixty to sixty-five maybe, seated nearest him—“and the other male victim just as you see them.”

  “You ID’d the other guy yet?” Luke Falco, Kerri’s partner, asked.

  Franklin nodded. “This is where things get interesting.”

  Though the second victim looked vaguely familiar, Kerri couldn’t place him. Young, late twenties or early thirties maybe. Unlike the older vic, who wore dark-blue trousers and a lighter-blue button-down open to the center of his chest, where gold chains dangled, victim number two wore a business suit—the kind that wouldn’t be found on some rack in just any department store. Frankly, the man didn’t actually look like the type to drop by a smoke shop, but then you never knew. With all the bad press about vaping, maybe some millennials were turning to custom-made, organic tobaccos. In any case, Leo’s was the place to shop in the greater Birmingham area. The oldest tobacconist in the state, in fact. Everyone who was anyone who had a fetish for tobacco, cigars, pipes, and/or fine liquors came to Leo’s. The city’s elite, mostly the old guard, kept the business thriving.

  Kerri lifted her gaze to Franklin’s. “How interesting?”

  “As in”—the uni’s eyebrows reared up his forehead—“he’s that new DDA everyone’s talking about. The rich one from up north.” He indicated the dead guy in question. “Detectives, meet Asher Walsh, deputy district attorney, Jefferson County.”

  “Well I’ll be damned.” Falco shot Kerri a look that said: So this is why we’re here.

  “That’s pretty damned interesting,” Kerri agreed, surprised she hadn’t recognized him. Then again, with his head dropped forward, the mask of death had bulged and discolored his facial features.

  Her partner was right; Walsh was definitely the reason MID had been called. The Major Investigations Division wasn’t just another part of Birmingham PD homicide. The division comprised the top detectives from BPD as well as the surrounding communities, including Homewood, Mountain Brook, Vestavia, and Hoover. Their job was to handle the investigations that impacted more than a single jurisdiction—the high-profile cases to which the powers that be wanted undivided attention provided by handpicked assets from across the greater Birmingham area.

  Cases like this one.

  Kerri crouched and took a closer look at the vic’s face. With his chin to chest and body in a seated position, hands secured behind his back, ankles bound to the chair legs, it wasn’t easy to estimate time of death. Judging by the lividity in the downturned face and along what she could see of the throat, he’d been dead possibly ten hours or more. And he’d died exactly where he was, seated in this ladder-back chair in the stockroom of an establishment with deep roots in local history.

  Kerri hadn’t met Walsh personally. She’d seen the news about him joining the DA’s office. The son of wealthy Bosto nians. Harvard educated. After a stint clerking for the Massachusetts supreme judicial court, rather than go into practice in his father’s prestigious firm, he had accepted a position in Birmingham, Alabama. According to the national and local media, it was a major coup for Birmingham and an up yours to his domineering father.

  Now, a mere six months later, he was dead.

  “What the hell did you get yourself into, Mr. Walsh?” she murmured before pushing to her feet. She turned to Falco. “One of us should let the LT know.”

  Lieutenant Dontrelle Brooks was not going to be happy to hear the news. As with Walsh’s arrival in Birmingham, his abrupt departure would make national headlines. The theories about his death would get messy. Something else that usually went along with the sorts of cases assigned to their division.

  “I’ll call him,” Falco offered.

  “I’ll interview the employee who found the bodies.” Kerri was more than happy for her partner to brief the LT.

  “The ME is on his way,” Franklin said to Kerri as Falco headed for the door that led into the front retail shop.

  Kerri nodded. “What about cell phones?”

  “We found the shop owner’s cell phone behind the bar,” Franklin explained, “but if Walsh was carrying one, we haven’t found it yet.”

  He was a DDA; he would have a cell phone. It was only a matter of finding it. Unless, of course, the shooter had taken it. In that case they’d have to wait for his phone records, which would be requested as a matter of standard protocol.

  “Thanks, Franklin. Keep looking for that phone. We have boots on the ground going from door to door?” She’d asked the responding officer to call for additional backup in hopes of getting on top of the situation sooner rather than later.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he assured her. “No hits so far. Most of the shops along this block close earlier than this one and weren’t open until just a few minutes ago, so no customers in the parking lots or employees hanging around outside. At least none we’ve found.”

  She gave him a nod and turned back to the victims. The shop had closed at ten last night. If her estimation on time of death was anywhere near accurate, the murders hadn’t occurred until well after the shop closed. With the rest of the shops in the area already shuttered for the night, there might not be any witnesses at all. They could hope for security cam footage, but there were never any guarantees with these older shops and neighborhoods.

  “I’m ready to talk to McGill.”

  Franklin jerked his head toward the door that separated the stockroom from the public space beyond. “She’s at the bar.”

  “Make sure the outside perimeter remains secure now that the other shops are open for business, and let Detective Falco know when the ME arrives.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Before turning away, she asked, “Do we have an ETA on the Crime Scene Unit?” Generally, they arrived about the same time or shortly after Kerri and Falco did. A call en route got a unit moving ASAP. Apparently there had been a glitch this go-around.

  “I checked with dispatch to find out what the holdup was and learned there’s a major pileup on 280. Our guys got caught up in that, but they’ll be here in the next few minutes.”

  Kerri nodded. “Good.”

  She followed the route Falco had taken. She spotted him through the storefront windows, standing outside, his cell tucked against his ear. Brooks was likely warning her partner about how sensitive these sorts of cases were. How they had to be exceedingly careful. No leaks. Keep the press at bay until an official statement was released.

  It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before. Ten months ago, the first case she and Falco worked together had involved the top echelon of Birmingham society. An ache pierced Kerri’s heart. That case had stolen the life of Amelia, her precious niece . . . it had taken a terrible toll on her family, and she’d been saddled with a new partner she hadn’t liked. She gave her head a small shake. Turned out that new partner was the best thing to happen to her, professionally and personally. He was a great partner and a good friend. She was lucky to have him.

  She glanced to the far end of the bar, where Tara McGill waited, her elbows on the counter, her face in her hands. Long blonde hair streamed down her back. The dress was short and tight, the sandals slinky. Kerri imagined all the employees who worked here were attractive and probably female. The older men who frequented the place with its vintage, tony appeal would prefer to be catered to by women.

  Kerri settled onto the barstool next to McGill. She looked up, tears blackened by her heavy mascara, and eyeliner stained her cheeks.

  “Ms. McGill, I’m Detective Kerri Devlin. I’d like to ask you a few questions about this morning.”

  She nodded. “Okay.” More dark tears rolled down her cheeks. “Who would do this?”

  “We’re hoping you can help us find that answer.” Kerri reached across the bar and grabbed a couple of napkins for McGill. “How long have you worked for Mr. Kurtz?”

  McGill swiped at her cheeks, then dabbed at her nose. “Two years.”

  “Do you have some idea about how many people the shop employs?”

  McGill considered the question for a moment. “There’s five or six who work part time and two of us who are full time besides Leo.” She drew in a big breath. “I just don’t understand. Everyone loves Leo.”

  Obviously, there was at least one person who didn’t. Or maybe it was simply a matter of wrong place, wrong time. Kerri doubted that scenario. This execution had been planned and carried out carefully. “Any trouble with customers or suppliers?”

  “Never.” McGill shrugged. “I mean, I’ve only been here for two years, but all the people I’ve encountered say the same thing—Leo is the best. Some have worked with him since he opened the place forty years ago. A lot of the customers have been coming here all that time too. It’s just crazy.”

  “No issues with any of the employees, past or present, that you’re aware of?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “What about family troubles? Issues with his significant other or current love interest?”

  McGill moved her head side to side. “Leo is—was single. His partner died like five years ago, and he never wanted to be with anyone else.” She sighed. “The man was a true romantic. And he didn’t have kids. He always joked that this place was his child.” She made a sound that fell short of being a laugh. “He would say the business just kept growing and never let him down.”

  “Best friends?”

  McGill summoned a watery smile. “We—those of us who work here—are his friends. And his customers. There’s no one else I know of.”

  Which could mean Leo was a loner in his personal life. Or just particularly discreet.

  “I realize you’ve probably already done this with Officer Franklin,” Kerri said, “but I need you to take me through your arrival this morning. Tell me everything you remember. Sometimes after such a traumatic event you recall more when you’ve had a chance to regain your composure.”

  McGill fiddled with the wad of napkins. “I parked next to Leo’s car at like nine twenty-seven. I know that because when I saw his car, I was surprised that he was here already. So I looked at the time on my dash to make sure I wasn’t late. I didn’t recognize the car parked next to his. The silver Audi, I mean. Leo drives that old four-wheel-drive Bronco. I think it’s about as old as he is . . .” She blinked once, twice, then swallowed hard. “Was.”

  “Did you have to unlock the door to come inside?”

  McGill shook her head no. “But I didn’t think anything of it since the boss was here. I came inside. Stuck my purse in the locker I use. There’s a whole row of them by the coatrack at the back door.” She paused, reviewing the next moments before speaking again. “The first thing I saw was the two chairs with hands tied behind them.” She made a face. “I thought, What the hell? I walked over to the chairs and around in front of them, and there was Leo. I didn’t know the other man. It took me a minute to understand they were dead. I was like in shock or something. I kept thinking this can’t be real. No way.” Her hands sliced through the air, punctuating the statement.

  “Did you touch either one of them—maybe to see if they were still breathing—or move anything near where they were seated?”

  “No.” An adamant shake of her head. “I just stood there trying to get past the shock. I kept telling myself I should scream or do something, but I couldn’t move. Then I used my cell to call 911.”

 

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