“Of course he is. He’s also aware that we’re running our own investigation and that we can employ other…tactics.”
“What do you think Adler will do now?”
“No idea, but Edge and Grinder will prevent him from doing anything too damaging.”
“Like what?”
“Confronting your father.”
Mila gave a little shrug of her shoulder and looked out the window.
“What do you want to do, sweetheart?”
“What do you mean?”
“Boston?”
“It’s where I live, Decker.”
“Are you ready to go back now?”
She didn’t answer right away, which I saw as a good sign.
“You know what I’d really like to do?”
I smiled and shook my head. If it had anything to do with us getting naked, I was all in.
“Rile said our old house is being held in trust for me.”
“That’s right.”
“I’d like to go see it.”
“Let’s go.”
29
Mila
As Decker turned off the highway and onto the dirt road, memories came flooding back to me. I remembered our mother driving Sybil and me home from school every day and how I’d hold my breath, hoping I’d see my father’s car in the yard. I never did; not in the middle of the afternoon. Most nights, I was in bed before he got home.
I remembered a table in the kitchen where Sybil and I would do our homework while our mother fixed dinner. I could count on one hand the number of times my father ate with us. He was even gone on the weekends.
When Decker pulled up to the white clapboard house, it took my breath away. How had I forgotten how much I’d loved living here?
It looked pretty rough; the lawn near the house hadn’t been mowed in years. The bushes were overgrown, and the back porch looked like it was collapsing. The windows on the first level were boarded up, but the upstairs ones in the dormers, weren’t. The front of the house didn’t look like it was in as bad shape as the back, and the black shutters looked as though all they’d need was a fresh coat of paint.
“Do you want to go inside?” Decker asked.
“Can we?”
“It’s your house, sweetheart.”
“Yes. I’d like to.”
“Let’s go.”
I waited for Decker to come around to my side of the truck. “I’m nervous,” I admitted.
“One thing to keep in mind is critters may have taken up residence.”
“Right,” I said as we walked up to the front door.
Decker reached out to open it, but it was locked. I picked up the partially broken pot sitting on the front porch, brushed away the dry dirt, and found the key I remembered had always been hidden there.
Decker stomped his way inside, I guessed to scare away any of those critters he’d mentioned. It was dark with the boards over the windows, but when I, like Decker, shined the light from my phone in the front room, I gasped. It all looked the same as I remembered it on the day my mother, my sister, and I had left. Maybe it was because it was dark, but it didn’t look as dilapidated as the outside had.
I took a few more steps and peeked around the corner, holding my breath. “Oh my God, it’s still here,” I gasped, shining the light on the baby grand piano where I’d taken my first lesson.
“Let’s get some light in here,” Decker said, going back out the front door. Moments later, I heard the wood crack as he pulled the thin boards from the three front windows. The room was immediately flooded with light. I lifted the keylid, and sat down on the bench, tentatively pressing my fingers to the keys.
I’d expected it to be out of tune, but it wasn’t as far gone as I thought it would be.
Bringing both hands to the keys, I began to play. I played and played and played, pounding out every piece of music I knew by heart. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear Decker moving about the house, removing boards, opening windows, perhaps to air it out. I should probably stop and help, but as soon as I finished one piece, I told myself I’d just play one more.
Only when I felt Decker standing behind me did I move my hands from the keys.
“Don’t stop,” he murmured.
“I know it needs a good tuning, but I love this piano. I couldn’t resist.”
“It sounded beautiful.”
I turned on the bench and looked around the room. “It’s like it was frozen in time.”
“Would you like to take a look around?”
I stood and took Decker’s extended hand, so anxious to see the other rooms of the house.
We walked through the formal dining room that was only used for holiday meals, and into the farmhouse kitchen. There was a wooden ladder in the corner that neither I nor Sybil had ever been allowed to climb. Our mother used it to reach things in the row of cabinets that butted up against the ceiling.
The oversized sink looked out on the orchard where peaches, plums, pomegranates, figs, pears, and apples grew. Beyond it, were rows and rows of blackberries, all horribly overgrown.
“I thought I’d check out the barn,” said Decker from behind me. “I’ve been in all the rooms. I didn’t see any sign of wildlife.”
I nodded as I ran my hands over the kitchen counters. Being here made me miss my mother so much more than the last time I’d visited my grandfather’s house. Maybe because I always thought of it as his, whereas this was my mother’s house. Not my father’s; he was never here. That he’d made us leave it, was heartbreaking. Especially considering it didn’t appear that anyone had lived here after we left.
The same table sat in what would probably be called a breakfast nook now. I walked out of the kitchen and to the stairway.
Upstairs there were four bedrooms. Sybil and I had had our own in this house. We’d had to share when we moved in with our grandfather. My room looked exactly the same as it had the day we left. It had the same blue toile wallpaper and the white hobnail cotton bedspread. It was dusty, of course, but otherwise, it was just as I remembered.
“Was this your room?” Decker asked from the doorway.
“It was.” I pointed to the chair that sat next to the dormer window. “I used to sit there and read.”
“I can see you there.”
I ran my hand over the old-fashioned dresser and looked into the mirror that hung above it. The last time I’d seen my reflection in it, I was seven years old. I’d been barely tall enough to see myself.
“Why did he make us leave?”
“I wish I knew,” Decker answered, coming to stand behind me.
“You’re a handsome man,” I said, looking at his reflection next to mine. I shuddered as I watched him lean down and kiss beneath my ear, my neck, up to my cheek. It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“You belong here,” he murmured. “This house suits you.”
I turned in his arms. “Texas isn’t my home anymore, Decker. I don’t think it has been since the day we left this house.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when the phone in his pocket rang.
“It’s the medical examiner,” he told me before he accepted the call.
“Hey, Doc. What can I do for you?”
I was close enough that I could hear the man’s response.
“I’ve completed the autopsy, Decker, and I found something you should see. How soon can you be here?”
Something we should see? Oh, God. What did that mean?
“I don’t know, maybe an hour?”
“Sooner the better, Deck.”
“We can leave now,” I told him when the call ended.
“Do you want to look at any of the other bedrooms first?”
“No. They weren’t mine.”
He nodded as if he understood. “There isn’t much to see in the barn.”
“I don’t remember ever being in there.”
Decker put his hands on my shoulders. “While the house doesn’t appear like
anyone’s been in it. I can’t say the same about the barn.”
“No?”
“There are three different sets of footprints that all look recent.”
I didn’t like the look on Decker’s face. “Does one set look like they belong to a woman?”
“They do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll give Rile a call on our way to see the medical examiner and then mention it to Mac when we get there.”
30
Decker
While the grandfather’s house had been trashed, it wasn’t the crime scene. This was. The barn anyway. Edge hadn’t said anything about Adler entering either the house or the barn, so my guess was all three sets of footprints had been left the night Sybil was murdered.
“Hello, my friend.”
I rolled my eyes. “Rile, we’re over at Mila’s house. There are footprints in the barn that I need someone to take a look at. The medical examiner called, and there’s something he wants me to see.”
“Understood.”
“Are Edge and Grinder still in Austin?”
“They’re on their way back. Adler Livingston was close to Knighthawk headquarters and then abruptly changed course and went to the airport. Grinder confirmed he got on a plane headed to Boston.”
“Good,” I muttered, not at all surprised. Adler needed to regroup, and I knew exactly whom with. “Where’s Casper?”
“On her way to Boston as well. She’ll land within the hour.”
I smiled. Maybe being part of this team wasn’t so bad, after all.
“I’ll have the boys go directly to the barn.”
“Thanks, Rile.”
“Adler is on his way back to Boston,” I repeated to Mila. “An agent is also on her way there.”
“She’ll follow him?”
“Yes. She’ll be there before he is.”
“Her name is Casper?”
“Yes. Her code name.”
“Why?”
“My understanding is she’s exceptionally good at silent approaches followed by vanishing with graceful stealth.”
“Wow.”
“Not my words, by the way. I read it in her dossier.”
“Decker, thank you for getting here so quickly,” said the medical examiner, meeting us near the building’s entrance.
“What did you want me to see?”
He looked over at Mila and then back at me.
“It’s fine,” I assured him.
The man nodded, pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket, and held it up.
“What is that?” I asked.
“A flash drive.”
“Where did you find it?”
The medical examiner leaned in close. “Our victim ingested it.”
“What’s on it?”
He shrugged. “Mac said you should have the first look.”
“Is Mac here?”
“He left shortly after I spoke with you.”
I put my hand on the medical examiner’s shoulder. “Thanks, Doc. Anything else I need to know?”
“Nothing else unexpected.”
“Good.”
“Did he say Sybil ingested it?” Mila asked once we were back outside.
“I wasn’t sure if you heard him.”
“She swallowed it?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you think that’s what whoever killed her was looking for?”
“I do.” I’d also lay odds that it was what Adler was looking for too.
“What do you think is on it?”
I had no idea, but my gut was telling me that I needed to find out without Mila being present.
I stopped at the main house instead of going straight to my place.
“I’m going to take this in to Rile. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s on it?”
“I do, but I’d like Rile to take a look first.”
Mila’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Because I don’t know what it is.”
Mila turned away from me. “All you have to say is that you’re afraid whatever it is, is something I shouldn’t see. Isn’t that what’s really going on here?”
“Yes.”
I put the truck back in gear and drove the rest of the way to my house.
“I’m going to start my laundry,” Mila told me, pulling the carry-on bag we’d left in the kitchen behind her.
I went into the office, closed the door, and then attached the drive to the laptop I kept off the main servers. If this thing was set up to do any kind of data damage, it would be minimal and contained. As I waited for it to load, I wondered if it had been in Sybil’s stomach too long and was damaged.
I held my breath as I saw it spin up. The flash drive contained two folders, both named by year. The first was of the same year as the divorce and Sybil’s surgery. The second was from nine years ago.
I took a deep breath and opened the most recent date; inside was an MP4 file. I scrubbed my face with my hand and opened the file.
The first thing I saw was a grainy image of what I guessed was Mila waiting for the elevator. It went on for five minutes, without any audio. I watched as the young woman turned and walked out of the camera’s view.
There were a few seconds of nothing but black which then cut directly to the stairwell. I held my breath again, watching as the scene Mila had described, played out on my computer screen. I stood, unable to sit still, but kept my eyes on the screen. This part contained audio, which only made it more horrific.
When Mila’s father rushed into the scene, I leaned forward and increased the volume.
As Mila had said, he screamed at her to go to her office and wait. The video wasn’t as grainy as that of her waiting for the elevator, but it was enough so I couldn’t see her face, and for that, I was glad.
Mila’s father grabbed the man by the throat and ripped the ski mask from his head.
The man laughed, followed by “She looks just like her—” Judd swung and hit the man in the mouth. He stumbled backward, but that didn’t stop him. “Just like her mother. Just like her. A slut born of a slut.”
Judd grabbed him again and held him by the throat. “The difference is, you made her mother a slut.”
“Difference?” The man cackled. “It was the best revenge of all, that you didn’t believe her. I blew up your fucking miserable life, and the daughter you thought was yours…”
It was Judd’s turn to laugh. “You’re wrong. I knew from the minute she was born that Sybil wasn’t mine.”
“You’re the same fucking liar you’ve always been, Knight.”
I watched as Judd pummeled the man and then pushed him out of the frame; the screen went black.
Fighting back the bile that came up in my throat, I wiped my mouth with my shirt sleeve. If Sybil had swallowed the flash drive in an effort to keep her killer from getting his hands on it, it was likely she’d seen the video.
I closed the file and opened the second folder. Inside were over two hundred jpg photo files, all dated ten days before I found Sybil dying on the side of the road—which meant she’d somehow gotten her hands on the original files and photographed them.
I opened and zoomed in on the first one, which was a cover sheet for a patent application. Randomly opening several more, I saw some contained text, others drawings. Finally, I clicked on and opened the only document that mattered—the page that would prove that the original patents were prepared to be filed by Marshall Livingston.
A quick online search provided proof of the second half of what I assumed. United States Patent URE47,825 listed the inventor as Knight, Judson A, and the Assignee, Knighthawk Corporation, Austin, Texas.
It wasn’t difficult for me to piece together a theory as to what had got Sybil killed. She’d somehow gotten her hands on not just the documents that proved Judd Knight had stolen Livingston’s designs, but also the video of Mila’s attack.
The unan
swered questions now were, had she found this evidence on her own and attempted to blackmail either her father or Livingston, or both? And which one killed her for it?
What I did know for certain, though, was that Adler Livingston’s father, Marshall, was the man who’d attacked Mila. Which brought up yet another question. How much did Adler know?
31
Mila
If I’d thought I felt like I was ready to crawl out of my skin before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. Decker had been in the office for almost an hour. That had to mean the flash drive wasn’t damaged when Sybil swallowed it and that there was something significant on it. Right? Would he have been in there that long if there wasn’t? I felt weird hanging out in the kitchen, so I walked over to the living room and pulled a book from the shelf.
It was one I’d noticed the first time I perused his collection, and was fascinated that it was one of only a couple of fiction books mixed in with several historical and ranching non-fiction hardbacks.
The title was The Confessions of Max Tivoli. It was about a man whose mind ages normally, but is born with the withered body of a seventy-year-old. As his body ages in reverse, he manages to cross paths with a woman who captures his heart three different times—giving him three chances for true love.
A number of theories ran through my mind about why Decker would own such a book. First, and most unlikely, was that he was a hopeless romantic. Second was that someone had given it to him as a gift, which I found equally unlikely. And third, perhaps the books on his shelves were merely for show and he didn’t realize he had it.
I sat on the sofa, opened the cover, and was shocked to see that it was signed with a personal message to him from the author.
Decker—
Pay attention the first time. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.
—A Greer
I turned to the first page and soon was so mesmerized, I didn’t hear Decker walk up behind me.
“Hi,” I said, setting the book down and turning to move my legs so he could sit beside me.
“Good book,” he commented when I set it on the coffee table.
Decked (The Invincibles Book 1) Page 14