Retired Detective Ortiz met her there with two coffees and a face full of reluctance.
“You keep taking me to cheerful places,” he said.
Amelia accepted one cup. “I’m told I have a gift.”
They stood facing the cabin.
Ortiz pointed toward the side yard. “Keller used to host poker nights out here. Not big money at first. Local business owners, a few cops, a judge once or twice. Then Danton started showing up.”
“You knew that?”
“I heard rumors.”
“And Reed?”
Ortiz’s mouth tightened. “That’s new.”
“Look at this.”
Amelia handed him a copy of the photograph.
Ortiz studied it, then exhaled slowly.
“Well,” he said. “That explains why Crain got nervous.”
“Detective Crain?”
“Lead investigator. He didn’t like certain names being mentioned. Danton was one. Reed might’ve been another.”
“Why would a prison administrator be connected to Martin Keller?”
Ortiz looked toward the lake. “Keller handled books for people. Taxes. Businesses. Sometimes people with clean money. Sometimes people who wanted dirty money to look cleaner than it was.”
