"How about a beer?" she offered, not waiting for him to reply. She grabbed one from the fridge and placed it on the kitchen counter. "I guess it didn't go well."
"Lilly Harrington cried."
Tears. Ryan couldn't deal with a woman crying. He never had been able to and from what she could see that hadn't changed in the last twelve years or so. Even happy tears were hard for him to deal with. He'd told her when they were younger that someone crying made him feel helpless and he hated that feeling.
Ryan took a long draw from the beer bottle before continuing. "They say that they had no idea that Brad was gambling. Actually, no. That isn't what they said. They said that they couldn't believe it, although I assured them that Brad had been in touch with at least two bookies. Then Lilly wanted to go lie down, and Skip asked me if I thought I could really solve this case."
"What did you say?" Knox asked, his smile gone for the moment, replaced with a worried frown.
"I was honest about the odds, just as I was in the beginning. I wasn't going to sugarcoat it. It isn't going to be easy. I told him we'd work the case as long as there were leads to follow." Ryan swung his gaze to Knox. "Speaking of leads, how did your afternoon go? I hope better than mine."
"I wish I had better news," Knox said with a grimace. "Steve Alton doesn't remember that night at all. He did say that he saw Trent Aldridge come and go because his balcony was right over the parking lot, but he doesn't have any recollection of that particular night. His exact words were 'Do you know how long ago that was? Shit, I barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday. Nights that long ago all blend together.' So, he's not going to be any help. As for Isla Foster's roommates, Jared found one still in Chicago and I went to see her."
"Let me guess, they don't remember Brad either?" Ryan said, taking another drink from the beer. "This is what happens when it's a cold case."
"They remember Brad, and they confirm that Isla was sleeping with him and that they all had some group sex a few times, but they don't know about that night in particular. They don't remember."
A muscle ticked in Ryan's jaw. "And Isla, who might remember, keeps cancelling. It's like she has something to hide from me."
Isla had always been a little different but the idea that she might have had something to do with Brad's death seemed crazy to Mariah.
"You think Isla killed Brad?"
Rubbing at his temple, Ryan shrugged. "Shit, I don't know. Not really. But she might know about his gambling. Maybe that's why she doesn't want to meet with me. She doesn't want to speak ill of the dead."
"There are a lot of people like that," Knox agreed. "Unfortunately, murder cases don't care about politeness."
"I'm not going to take no for an answer tomorrow," Ryan replied grimly. "I'm going to show up at her office and not leave until she talks to me. If she gives me a hard time, I'll call the detective on the case and they can bring her downtown. Perhaps she'll get the idea that we're not playing a game here."
They talked about Knox and Ryan meeting with Caroline, Danny, and Theo again. If anyone would know about Brad's gambling, it would be one of those.
"How about I order us some dinner?" Mariah offered. Ryan had had such a shit day she didn't want to ask him to fix a meal. And heaven knew she couldn't cook. She'd poison all three of them. "Pizza? Italian? Chinese? Burgers? There's a new sports bar that dropped off a menu a few weeks ago. There's cheese fries."
Ryan loved cheese fries. Or at least he had.
Knox placed his hand over his heart and sighed. "I would crawl over hot coals for a double cheeseburger. Do they have wings, too?"
"You bet."
She retrieved the menu from a drawer in the kitchen and everyone put in their order, plus she said she'd add several items to share. They'd have leftovers, too.
"Do you guys mind if I go lie down while we wait for the food?" Knox asked, his hand on the doorknob. "I didn't sleep well on the flight."
"Go ahead," Ryan urged him. "Make yourself at home."
Knox was sleeping in the guest room of Ryan's apartment.
"He may have been tired but I think he also wanted to give us some time alone," Ryan said.
"He sounds like a good friend."
"He is. I'm lucky that all of my coworkers are good people."
"I'm going to call in the order," Mariah said. "Help yourself to another beer, if you want."
She put in their order, adding a few dishes that would make nice leftovers for the next day. By the time she was finished Ryan had left the living room. She looked in her bedroom, the guest room, and then finally found him in her studio space. He still had his beer in his hand and he was studying a painting she'd hung on the wall. It was a landscape of a spot in Central Park.
Their spot.
It had been a family vacation that was half business as well. Mariah had trailed along with the Becks because she was dating Ryan and best friends with Liza. It had been a lovely spring day and she and Ryan had gone for a walk through Central Park. At one spot there had been a beautiful flower garden and they'd stopped to look at it. Holding hands and kissing like the new lovers that they were, Ryan had told Mariah that he loved her. She had, of course, happily said it back. It was one of her best memories of the past. The entire day had seemed so incredibly romantic. Like something out of a movie.
"I remember this place," he said.
"I have to admit that I still go back there whenever I visit New York. I still remember that day like it just happened."
He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "You hung this one up. You didn't sell it."
"Because I don't normally paint landscapes, and I'm awful at it. It's not very good."
She didn't say that she'd never even tried to sell it. There's no way she could have.
"I think it's great," he said with a shake of his head. "But I'm glad you didn't sell it."
"I painted it for me."
"When did you paint it?"
He spoke so softly she almost didn't hear the question.
"Several years ago." She knew what he was really asking. "Before I got married to Bobby."
"Did you love him?"
She'd known that eventually they'd have this talk but she still wasn't quite prepared for it.
"Yes, but..."
She wasn't sure how to put it all into words.
"But...?"
"But not in the right way. I loved what he could have become, not who he was at the present. That's not a good basis for a marriage. I should have loved him for who he was."
"And he loved you."
"Yes, but I think he loved me in the same way that I loved him. He loved what he thought he could mold me into. He thought that after we got married that I'd change somehow. That I'd stop caring about my art and settle down and have a bunch of kids. He didn't like that I worked."
Bobby had wanted all of her attention on him. The truth was, he wanted everyone's attention on him and he didn't want to share the spotlight. When Mariah had received a writeup in an art magazine, he'd sulked for weeks.
Ryan frowned, his expression quizzical. "He didn't want you to paint? Why?"
"He wanted a more traditional wife," she explained. "I guess he thought I would change after the marriage vows. I thought he would change too, so I guess we're even. I shouldn't have married him. I see that now, but at the time..."
She didn't continue. Explaining it was only going to make her look even more stupid than she had actually been.
"I wanted to believe that love could change people," she finally said. "That it solved all problems. I should have known better."
"You didn't think I could change."
True. She hadn't and that was one of the reasons that they'd broken up. Somehow, she’d thought that Bobby could change. Maybe because he'd been older and supposedly more mature. It didn't make much sense looking back. She'd simply wanted to believe so badly because she wanted to be in love. She wanted her happily ever after. Now she knew it didn't work that way. Love wasn't hand
ed out willy-nilly because you were a good person.
"Maybe...deep down...I thought I would change. But I didn't. And he didn't either. We didn't have a nasty divorce or anything. I think we both just realized that we made a mistake. The thing I truly regret is that I disappointed my parents. My mom had a little talk with me when Bobby and I got engaged. She tried to tell me that we were too different to make it work but I thought she was only saying that because she still wanted you to be my boyfriend."
That made Ryan smile.
"Your parents are the nicest, most wonderful people ever. I adore them."
"And they adore you," she said with a laugh. "You were the son they never had."
His smile instantly dropped. "And now? How are Mom and Dad going to feel about me possibly stealing their baby girl and taking her to Seattle? Are they going to hate me?"
"No, they'll just build a house near us and visit until we want to scream."
"Your parents could never make me scream."
"You say that now..."
His gaze shifted back to the painting, and she could see his shoulders tense.
"I've had a few somewhat serious relationships."
"I'm not sure what a somewhat serious relationship is," she replied carefully, not wanting to push back too hard. The fact was she curious. Liza had tried to keep Mariah in the loop about Ryan's romantic life, but she hadn't wanted to hear it. "Were you engaged?"
"No, but I thought about it once."
"Just once?"
Turning back to Mariah, he rubbed at his chin. "I was pretty focused on my career, to be honest, but there were a couple of women that I dated for awhile that I thought might turn into something. They didn't, obviously. They were good people. It just didn't work out."
"I'm kind of jealous," she admitted. "But I'm glad that you had someone in your life that made you happy. I wouldn't want to think about you being alone all the time."
"I'm kind of jealous, too."
It was a breathtaking admission from a man that didn't talk about his feelings much.
"We can't change the past, and I'm not sure that I would even if we could. I like the people that we became a hell of a lot more than the kids we were. We have a better chance this time. A real chance to make it work."
Reaching out, he pulled her in so their bodies were flush against one another. She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, so soft and silky.
"I want to make this work, Mariah. I want that future with you."
Together, they'd make it happen. It might be work, but it would be worth it.
24
Dinner arrived and Knox came back to Mariah's apartment to eat. They all sat on the floor around the coffee table, talking about the day they'd had and their plans for tomorrow. The top of Ryan's list was a meeting with Isla. He wasn't going to take any more of her excuses.
"So what leads do you have left?" Mariah asked when they'd finished their meal. They'd all pitched in to clean up the mess, stuffing the leftovers into the refrigerator and the dirty plates and silverware into the dishwasher.
"Isla, Caroline, and Theo," Ryan replied as they all settled on the couch. "I'm hoping one of them knew about Brad's gambling."
"Caroline and Danny were quite forthcoming when you met with them," Mariah replied. "If she knew about it, I think she would have said something already."
"I've thought about that too, but I need to ask anyway. Maybe she didn't think it was an issue at the time."
"If anyone knows it will be his best buddy," Knox said. "Guys don't always tell their girls everything, but their best friend always knows the dirty details."
"Then why didn't Theo tell me when we talked before?" Ryan asked.
Knox grinned. "Bro code, dude. You don't rat on your best bro when they're doing something that others might not approve of."
"Even if Theo thought that Brad might be in over his head?"
"We don't have any evidence of that," Knox pointed out. "If he knew Brad was gambling, and I bet that he did, he may not have realized how much Brad was gambling a day. Or he may have known but didn't think it was a big deal since Brad's own daddy wasn't worried about the money. No alarm bells were going off anywhere and no one thought this was a problem."
That was the truth. Not one person had been concerned about Brad. Everyone said that he'd been acting normally. Nothing was off.
Then he'd walked into a bar and never walked out. Disappeared for over ten years. And he wasn't giving up his secrets easily either.
"I know I just got here," Knox continued. "But how about we start from the beginning? Go over the whole case again. That's what Jared would tell us to do."
Knox had worked for Jared as a deputy years ago.
Jason and Logan would have agreed with Jared, too.
"Okay, let's do that," Ryan agreed, levering up to grab a couple more beers from the refrigerator, but then he remembered that this wasn't his damn apartment and that Mariah might die of boredom listening to them talk shop. "We can go back to my place to do it. I don't want to take over your evening, Mariah."
"Are you kidding? I want to hear you two work. I promise I'll be as quiet as a mouse and just watch, but please stay here."
Ryan shook his head. "If we stay, I want you to speak up. You were there that night at the bar and you were also there when I talked to Caroline and Danny. You're in this as much as I am."
She looked unsure but Knox was nodding in agreement.
"He's right," Knox said. "You were there. You were Brad's friend. You have insights that I don't have."
"So you're unbiased," Mariah replied. "That's a really good thing."
"True," he agreed. "But we need all the brain power we can get here."
They gathered around the kitchen island, Ryan's case file spread out on the granite.
"So let's start at the beginning," he said. "We were all at the bar that night. The camera at the front door caught each one of us arriving and leaving. Except for Brad. The camera never shows him leaving. Yet, his body was found in the lot next door, so clearly he did exit the building."
"But not necessarily on his own power," Knox replied. "He may have been carried out at a later time."
Mariah grimaced. "You mean that he was hidden in that bar for some length of time? Ick."
"Sorry, gruesome shit doesn't gross me out anymore," Knox said. "But yes, that is what I'm saying. They could have hidden him in a crawl space, a basement, or even the attic. Then when the cameras were off or no one was there, they moved his body."
Ryan tapped his finger on one of the evidence photos - the one of the metal pipe that had been lying next to Brad's body. "But we know from the autopsy that Brad was likely killed by a blow to the head with this pipe. A pipe from the construction site next door. That has me leaning that he was alive and at the site."
"That site was under construction for months," Mariah said. "Anyone could have taken that pipe from there."
Ryan scratched at his chin. "They could have brought it inside but I'm still leaning toward him being attacked outside. Inside a crowded bar is no place for a deadly fight that no one will notice. And let's make it clear that no one noticed Brad having any issues with anyone that night."
Knox unfolded the police drawing of the construction site. "So we're saying that we think that Brad was alive when he exited the bar and that he was killed here? Because that begs the question of how the hell did he get out of the building without anyone seeing him? You said yourself that the back door has an alarm on it."
Mariah pointed to the west side of the bar on the drawing. "There were windows along here. It would have been a tight fit but he could have gotten out through one of them."
Ryan seized onto that detail. "According to the bar staff, he wasn't there after they pushed everyone out to close, and they checked the office and bathrooms each night in case some drunk decides they don't want to go home. So I think that makes the crawl through a window theory a pro
bable one."
"We can try watching the video again," Knox suggested. "I can try enhancing it as much as possible. We need to be sure that he didn't exit out of the front door."
"It's old and terrible quality," Ryan warned him. "But it's worth a shot. At this point, we can't afford to ignore anything."
"I'll take a look at it," Knox promised. "If I can enhance it slightly, we might be able to get Jared to run some facial recognition software on it. Maybe we'll get a hit on someone who worked for a bookie."
The chance was small but they had to take it. They weren't rolling in leads at the moment.
"The only question is why did he do that?" Mariah asked quietly. "Why would he crawl out of a window instead of going out the front door? It doesn't make any sense."
"Because there was something or someone outside of the front door that he didn't want to see," Knox replied. "I'm guessing he owed someone money."
Mariah shook her head. "Brad's parents gave him plenty of money, especially after he started college. They weren't even worried about how much he was spending. He could have paid his debts."
"Maybe he placed a big bet," Ryan said. "A bet bigger than any he'd placed before and he lost. To pay it back, he might have had to take a bigger withdrawal than usual and he was worried about his parents finding out about his hobby."
She didn't look convinced.
"I guess that's a possibility, but I still don't see Brad not being able to pay for it. You said yourself he had plenty of money in the bank and a credit line, too. He also had control of the trust fund from his grandparents, remember? He got that when he turned twenty-one. Technically, he had millions."
"You have a valid point," Ryan conceded. "But I still agree with Knox that there had to be a damn good reason that Brad didn't go out the front door. Fear would be my only guess there. Maybe his fear didn't have anything to do with his gambling. It could be a red herring, and there was something else going on."
Gilded Craving: Cowboy Justice Association (Serials and Stalkers Book 3) Page 17