“A friend of hers was the daughter of one of the men killed two years ago, Ken Turner.” Rob reached into his bag and slapped a file down on the table between them. “After a years-long whisper campaign about inappropriate behavior with the women in his office—touching them, demanding sex, demoting them if they turned him down, tying moving up in the company to sucking him off—he was killed. In a single-car accident just days after an internal investigation cleared him to a great deal of public outcry.”

“Did the daughter think he was innocent?”

“She wanted to, but no. She knew who he was and how little regard he had for women. But she didn’t buy the single-car accident explanation for his death. After years of not talking, she had texted her father. She said he was apologetic and begged to see her. He was supposed to be on his way to visit her but never arrived. His car was found a day later, nowhere near where they were supposed to meet. In a lake. He was wrapped up in the seat belt as if he’d tried to escape but couldn’t.”

Poetic, maybe, but Gabby wasn’t convinced that proved anything. “He could have changed his mind about the meeting. Felt guilty . . .”

“This guy’s daughter was pretty vocal about the story of his death not making sense, and asked Tami to investigate it. Then the daughter, a respected teacher, became the target of suggestions that she did something with a student.” Rob finished his coffee. “The daughter abruptly agreed with the police findings, and the nasty rumors stopped. An unnamed jealous coworker was blamed but never outed or disciplined.”

“Unnamed?” Gabby would have sued the pants off that liar.

“Strange, right? The daughter stopped talking to Tami. Blocked her calls. So Tami dug deeper. She found more cases. Similar circumstances.”

Gabby remembered the story about this Ken Turner guy and how relieved the women who knew him sounded when he died. But that still didn’t prove anything. “Coincidence.”

A second file went on top of the first. “Damon Scott. A politician and slum landlord who evaded criminal prosecution even after two of his tenants died when a poorly maintained balcony collapsed. One month after that he died in a fall off the rooftop deck of his Georgetown home. His wife insisted an accidental fall was impossible due to the railing. As soon as she spoke up, criminal charges were filed against her. Those were later dropped when she agreed to the medical examiner’s findings about her husband’s death.”

She read about that strange fall. “Okay.”