“I’ve seen it happen that way more often than I can dismiss,” Iglesias continued.
Riley wasn’t into philosophizing. Never had been.
“I don’t understand why, with almost a million dollars gone, more of these investors haven’t come forward,” he said, needing to get the conversation firmly back on track before his life started to derail completely. There was no way fate was bringing him and Charlize back together. It was coincidence. Every bit of it.
And he didn’t even want to know what she was making of the detective’s statements. Probably dismissing them, just like him.
“I did some checking after you called last night,” Iglesias was saying. “Turns out there were sixteen separate police complaints about a banker named Wes Matthews. Nothing concrete, just reports that people feel they’ve been conned since they can’t reach the guy. He seems to have vanished, along with the RevitaYou site. I’ve started an official file and will be handling the case.”
Riley filled him in on the mysterious scientist who also seemed to be missing. He also gave the detective a rundown of the work assigned to his siblings and employees, letting Iglesias know that he’d keep him fully apprised as soon as he knew anything.
It wasn’t uncommon for the GRPD to work with professional investigation firms—and Iglesias expressed his appreciation to Riley and Colton PI, agreeing to fully reciprocate the sharing of information.
And then, with one more warning to Charlize to stay inside and watch her back, saying again that he’d have an officer on the house within an hour, the detective was gone.
Taking with him the protection from any possibility of personal conversation between Riley and Charlize.
“I’m staying until the officer gets here,” he said.
Her nod didn’t surprise him. She was a reasonable person.
“And we need to talk,” he added.
If Iglesias was any good at his job, he was going to be telling whatever officer was assigned to Charlize’s house that she was pregnant. And his siblings all had contacts with the GRPD. No telling whether the trail could lead them to hearing the news from someone other than him, not that he’d been outed as the father yet.
She nodded again. Sat down on the couch, kicking off her sandals and crossing her legs. Looking far too young for him. And far too sexy for him not to notice her in spite of their age difference—kind of a moot point when you considered that he’d already impregnated her.
But what you did for a night was far different than what you’d do for a lifetime. Or even should do.
“So talk,” she said.
Riley opened his mouth to speak. Needing to make things right.
And no words came out.
Chapter 8
If Charlize had been at her best, she’d have helped him. As it was, she sat there on her couch, watching Riley Colton wrestle for words, and...just let him struggle.
She was a certified family counselor. She not only knew healthy interpersonal dynamics, but also knew how to teach them to those in unhealthy patterns. There were no lessons in her books that fit the man who’d walked from the window toward her, and back again several times—showing her a perfect male backside displayed deliciously in the tight black jeans on one side, and when he turned, the thick mass of upper arm muscle defined by the short sleeves of his polo shirt. She wouldn’t look at his chest. Or his fly.
Both held way too many memories of the night she’d spent in fantasyland with him. She couldn’t afford to burn again.
If he continued to silently pace, the officer would be there and Riley’d have no excuse to prolong what had to be agony for him. The silence between them was starting to feel like it to her, too.
She could let him off the hook. Tell him she neither expected nor wanted anything from him. The sentiments were true. She’d known from the first missed period that if she was pregnant she was going to have the baby and raise it on her own.
She wasn’t going to settle as her mother had, time and time again.
Eventually, he sat on the chair she’d occupied earlier, perched on the front half of it, legs spread, elbows on his knees. He could have been relaxed. But looked more ready to spring up and out the front door at the sound of a buzzer.
“I’ve gone the whole relationship route...doesn’t work for me. But I expect full rights as a father.”
Whatever she’d been expecting, that was not it. Hugging her knees to her chest, she closed herself off to him. He was not going to...
What?
She had to find out... “What do you consider full rights?”
“Financially, I’ll pay support, of course.”
She’d been prepared to accept that he might do that. The money could go in a college fund. She didn’t share any of her thoughts, though. Just waited.
“And...we’ll need to set up some kind of visitation schedule. It’s not ideal. I’m not saying overnight. Personally, I’d rather my child sleep every night in the same home, though I have no grounds for thinking that would be best...”
She frowned, her stomach clenched so tight she was afraid she might start to feel sick again. Almost wished on the malady so she could escape the room. The conversation. “So you want the child to spend all nights at your place? Or no nights?” It was all just hypothetical. She didn’t have to agree. He could take her to court.
He didn’t even want to be a father. He’d said so. Quite clearly.
“The child should have time with me.”
Not that he wanted the time. But the child should have it. He apparently had given up on the night idea. As though the baby just wouldn’t sleep.
Almost fascinated now, she continued to let him squirm in his own juices.
“My sisters are going to be up in your space instantly. I have no control over them whatsoever, and once they know there’s going to be a baby in the family...well... I’m just letting you know...fair warning...”
She nodded. If they got out of hand, that was what restraining orders were for. If not, she’d love for her baby to have a big, welcoming family. To feel wanted and loved. To have someone to run to when Charlize pissed him or her off, as surely she would, just as Charlize herself had run to Blythe when she’d thought her grandparents were being too strict.
He stood. Moved to the window. “A police car just pulled up,” he said, sounding as though he’d just lost a hundred pounds off his back. “That’s it, then. I’m going to call a meeting with my siblings this afternoon—for as soon as they can all get there—and I’ll check in with you after that.”
He was heading toward the door. “And I’ll call you if I hear from Iglesias.”
Still sitting on the couch, nonplussed and she didn’t know what else, Charlize watched him stop in the archway leading to the foyer and the front door. She wasn’t following him.
Didn’t think their conversation was anywhere near over.
But she understood that the business awaiting him was far more urgent than their baby’s visitation schedule. If there’d be one. And they were going to be interrupted again any second.
“I’d appreciate it if you keep me apprised...even if it’s just a text...”
“Apprised of what?” She was being purposefully difficult. She knew it. But couldn’t stop herself. The man got under her skin.
“Anything. Everything. If you feel sick. If anyone shows up here uninvited, if there’s any more trouble...including troublesome phone calls...”
“I’ll call the police.”
“For morning sickness?” Riley asked.
Ahhh. So he wasn’t as lost as she’d thought.
“I’m not going to text you every time I get sick.”
A knock sounded on the door.
“Just keep me apprised,” he said then, grabbing her gaze with his own and compelling her to not look away. “Please.”
&nbs
p; At that, she nodded. He’d asked nicely.
And, past experience had shown her, giving him what he wanted was a sure way to get rid of him.
And she needed him to go. Even if part of her wanted him to stay.
* * *
Riley didn’t like leaving Charlize, but after satisfying himself that the officer who’d arrived would keep a diligent watch on her, he was eager to get back to doing what he did best. Finding the bad guys and taking them down.
Other guys were good at spending quality time with the family.
His life purpose was making the world a safer place for the families to spend their quality time.
And now, more than ever, with a child of his own soon to be needing a safe place to grow up, he was determined to get out on the streets and rid them of every piece of dirt he saw.
After a call from Ashanti, he went to work on another of his cases: the disappearance of Shannon Martin. He headed to a warehouse where a woman who’d once danced with Shannon Martin managed a plant that made leather jazz shoes. Those kind of shoes a serious dancer wore, Ashanti had told him, as opposed to the more cheaply made versions worn by a lot of young girls and hobbyist dancers. There were only a few places in the United States that actually manufactured the shoes—a brand worn by Shannon—and one of them was right there in Grand Rapids. Since Shannon had been at a rehearsal the day she’d disappeared, he was interested in speaking with the former dancer. She was someone the police had never interviewed.
And twenty minutes after entering the managing office at the shoe factory, he was leaving with renewed energy. With adrenaline flowing with good force. With a reminder that he did what he did because he had a sense for knowing where to sniff.
The witness recalled Shannon Martin had seen a father abusing his young daughter in a deserted dressing room backstage.
The shoe manager couldn’t remember the young dancer’s name, but she knew the father’s because the guy had given her and Shannon the creeps. The incident had taken place more than a year before Shannon’s disappearance so the show manager hadn’t thought anything of it.
When Riley had heard the guy’s name, recognized it from a case he’d worked years before, he thought enough of the information to call Ashanti and have her do some more research.
They likely weren’t going to end up with good news for Avis, but he had a feeling Avis was prepared for that eventuality. The man had already grieved for the loss of his sister. What he needed was answers.
He needed them, too. For Brody. And, as immediately, for the woman carrying Riley’s unborn child. Because he had no idea where Brody was, and had to hope the young man’s street smarts were keeping him somewhat protected, he went, first to do his own drive-bys of Charlize’s clients’ names and expected whereabouts he’d committed to memory that morning. Both of the Thompson women were at their jobs. James Barber was at his. And Ronny Simms was accounted for, too. He didn’t speak with any of the suspects. But once he was satisfied that none of them were on their way to Charlize’s place, he was able to get his focus back on RevitaYou, Wes Matthews and finding the thugs from Capital X before they found Brody and began breaking more bones.
On his way back to CI headquarters, he called Charlize, just to make sure that, since he hadn’t heard anything, she was fine. She barely had a second to speak to him, having put someone on hold to answer his call, had said she was working. When he told her that the three top suspects in the threats on her were currently occupied, she thanked him. And hung up before he could ask how she was feeling—if her morning sickness was carrying on into the day.
Pal met him at the kitchen door as he walked in from the back entrance. Wagging her tail, she waited for his pat on the head, but in so doing, told him that everything at the house was okay. Bailey came into the kitchen to meet him.
“I’ve been to every one of the Grand Rapids sites where RevitaYou seminars were held,” he said, following Riley through to his office as he spoke. “Wes Matthews dealt with them directly. From what I can tell there was no middle person, no secretary. He handled all of the details and paid cash. The contact number they had for him was the same one Brody had. I can’t find anything on the scientist.”
“Put Ashanti on him...see if...”
“Already done. I caught her before she left,” the tall, dark young man interrupted. “So far nothing connects Matthews to any scientist.”
“A couple of site managers I talked to had spoken to some of the people who gave testimonials. Both of them said they believe the testimonials were completely true. The people were just normal. One of them even knew one of the first investors, knew firsthand that she’d made money reselling the product, which was why she let them use her facility for a seminar. The facilities manager also said she’s been taking RevitaYou and has had good results.” Bailey gave Riley names and addresses, which he jotted down to relay to his siblings in their upcoming meetings.
“And I spoke with several of the investors themselves. And, through them, talked to some of the RevitaYou users they’d personally sold to.” He frowned, came forward and stood in front of Riley’s desk. “Some of them had no problems, but half said that they felt nauseated after taking them, Riley. Just like Brody’s girlfriend. For a couple, it was worse than just nausea. One woman I saw isn’t doing well at all. Her doctor’s running tests, but since they know she’s ingested something new recently, they’re wondering if she’s been poisoned.”
The news pissed Riley off. In the way he got pissed at injustice. It was just a thing with him—this inability to let wrongdoing slide off his back.
“I’ve only spoken with half a dozen users so far,” Bailey was saying, “so the results could be skewed, but when Ashanti said you were on your way back, I stopped in to let you know, and write up notes. This sounds like some messed up stuff...”
Riley took the notes Bailey handed him and thanked the younger man. He heard the back door open and close, followed by Pippa’s greeting to Pal in the baby voice she sometimes used with the dog, so went in to get snacks on the dining room table for the upcoming meeting. As busy as everyone was, he had to make certain they had enough food to keep their minds as sharp as possible.
If he timed it just right, maybe he could get the personal news he had to tell them out while all five of their mouths were full. Giving them all a couple of chewing seconds to think before just blurting out what first came to their minds—the judgment and doubts that he could do without.
Business was first and as soon as they’d all taken their seats, he started right in, filling them all in on his meeting with Emmanuel Iglesias, thanking Sadie for the referral.
“I’ve assured him that we’ll keep him apprised of anything we find out, and he’s agreed to return the favor,” he told the group, pausing only long enough to see a nod from everyone. Maintaining Colton Investigations’ good relationship with law enforcement was something he took very seriously.
“I’ve tried repeatedly to text both numbers we have for Brody, and got nothing,” he added. All four girls chimed in that they’d tried, too, but no one had heard from him. Griffin remained silent, not surprising to Riley. The adoption attorney was on board, but he evidently wasn’t losing as much sleep over Brody’s disappearance as the rest of them were.
When he looked up and caught Riley looking at him, he said, “Brody’s always been one to look for a quick fix but he’s also scary smart.” He looked at his sisters as he spoke. “And he’s still got those street smarts in him. He needs us to get him out of this mess, but in the meantime he’ll find a way to keep himself safe until we fix the big issue.”
While Riley found Griffin’s attempt to reassure their sisters a bit on the rough side, he also agreed with the gist of what he’d said.
And reported on Bailey’s findings before starting around the table for their reports. Feeling like a stopwatch, clicking down the time to his own doom. He
had to tell them. Who knew how many officers would be involved in the protection detail outside of Charlize’s house? Not that her pregnancy would be connected personally to him...
“I was able to get a hold of the surveillance footage from Brody’s office building, only the lobby and just outside,” Pippa said. “I’ve been over it several times, and have sent it to Ashanti to see if there’s anything she can pull out that I didn’t see,” she said, her expression as serious as her demeanor generally was. Pippa was most like Riley in some ways—all about work. “I see Brody coming off the elevator, looking around. I see him head toward the door. Then on the outside footage, I see him come through the door to the outside. I can even see him seem to notice someone, and then speak, but whoever he’s talking to stayed just beyond reach of the camera. There’s a pillar on each side of the building. Brody walks off screen and then...nothing. He never comes back through those doors for the rest of the day.”
“Pip sent me the video, just in case, and I pulled out every visible person and ran them all through facial recognition. Nothing popped,” Sadie added.
“Unfortunately, this validates the theory that the Capital X thugs are professional enforcers,” Vikki said. “They knew how not to be seen, while still intimidating him. Avoiding waiting for him in the lobby, out of reach of all cameras, and yet, right there on the front steps where everyone who works with Brody passes by.”
“I was able to connect with a couple of people who’ve used Capital X in the past,” Griffin said. “With the assurance that their names won’t be made public, of course.” Everyone nodded again, all focus on their adopted brother. “Both sources gave me the same information. They seem to have unlimited resources, as there’s no limit to the amount of money you can take out in a loan and their interest rates are very high, thirty percent. They operate solely underground. No one knows of any office space or physical presence of any kind of business front. And digitally it’s all on the dark web. No one knows the name of their kingpin. Everyone deals with an anonymous contact at Capital X and the only way to communicate telephonically is with burner phones. Both of my sources paid off the loans as agreed, but both intimated that they’d been told what would happen if they didn’t. These guys don’t take people’s homes from them—they break their bodies, just like Brody said.”
Colton 911--Family Defender Page 9