by A. C. Arthur
“They said they were family,” Jackson the guard, said the moment he saw Roark. “I checked it out before I let them in and I wanted to call you first, but she insisted on going straight to your room.”
“He sure did,” Aunt Birdie snapped. “Holding us out there like we were common criminals. It’s absurd.”
Tamika was quickly surmising that Aunt Birdie was the complainer in the Donovan family.
“It’s okay, Jack,” Roark said before giving the guy a conciliatory nod as if he already knew what Aunt Birdie had put him through while he’d checked out who they were. “Can you call the paramedics?”
“Already done, sir. They should be here at any minute.”
“Thanks.” Roark carried his sister into the parlor, and Aunt Birdie followed.
Dorianne came up to Tamika’s side as she walked in behind them. “I didn’t know what to do or say to her,” the woman confided in Tamika.
Tamika could only nod, because she wasn’t real sure what to do or say to Aunt Birdie, either. “It’s fine, Dorianne. They’re going to need rooms. I can help you get them ready.” Tamika almost frowned when she realized her words did sound as if she worked here.
“No. No. I can take care of it now that I know what’s what. Just give me about fifteen minutes. There’s hot coffee in the kitchen. I did manage to get that started when I figured it was about to be an interesting night.” Dorianne was wearing a robe as well, hers a navy blue and white checker-print, her black scarf tied in a knot on her forehead.
“Thank you, Dorianne,” Tamika said before turning her attention back to Roark and his family.
“What the hell happened?” Roark asked as he sat on the couch beside Suri.
“She got blown up, that’s what happened,” Aunt Birdie snapped. “We were both almost killed.”
Aunt Birdie dropped down into the chair Tamika’s mother had previously sat in and put her case on the floor beside her. When she sat back in the chair, Tamika could see how tired the older woman really was. Tired and afraid. Her eyes closed as she released a heavy sigh. She didn’t fold her hands together and let them fall into her lap the way Tamika thought she would; instead she clamped her hands on the arms of the chair as if that action was somehow steadying her.
“There was an explosion,” Suri said, her tone much calmer than Aunt Birdie’s had been. “I came home from a date, and there was someone standing across the street. A guy I believe, dressed in all black and wearing a hood over his head. I went inside to make sure Aunt Birdie was okay. She was, but when I looked out the window, the guy was still there. That’s when I grabbed my gun—”
“Whoa, wait a minute. You have a gun?” Roark was clearly surprised by that revelation.
Suri gave him a look as if that were old news. Tamika found the exchange endearing, even though the circumstances were dire. “Yes, I have a gun, Roark. I’m a thirty-year-old woman who knows how to protect herself.”
Roark looked as if he wanted to say something else, but thankfully thought better of it and just waited for her to continue.
“I grabbed my gun and ran back downstairs. I was just going to point it at him and tell him to get lost. I never planned on shooting anybody, even though I’m a damn good shot.” The last was said with an edge of pride. “But before I could even get to the door, it literally blew up in my face.”
“He planted a bomb at your house.” Tamika spoke slowly, letting the words and the weight of that comment settle in.
Roark jerked his head in her direction. “She’s not his target. He doesn’t even know her.”
Tamika swallowed, trying to wrap her mind around all the things that were happening, and dread settled in the pit of her stomach. “But you don’t believe in coincidences. Don’t you remember telling me that?”
“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Suri asked.
“How’d you get here, Suri? Didn’t the police come? Who in the hell let you walk away from an explosion without calling for an ambulance and sending you both straight to the hospital?”
“Police and ambulances arrived. Firefighters too. They say it was a car bomb, in one of the cars across the street. Right where I saw the man standing.” She gave a shaky sigh. “The blast wasn’t close enough to the house to cause more than broken windows to the front. Or the bomb wasn’t big enough. I forget which one they said.”
“They?” Roark pressed. “The cops or the firefighters?”
“Detective Gibbons. The one we spoke to at the solicitor’s office that day. He was there and he said that if this were meant to kill us, it would’ve. He had so many questions. He wanted to know where you were and whose name the flat was in, and when was the last time I saw you. Aunt Birdie yelled at him to get a warrant and arrest us if he thought we were guilty of a crime. I told him to contact Mr. Burrows, and then we packed up some stuff, got in the car and came straight here. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Roark pulled his sister gingerly to him for a hug then. “You did the right thing,” he whispered.
“Paramedics are here.” Jack came in with two men on his heels, both wearing medical jackets and carrying duffel bags.
Tamika watched for a few seconds as Roark stayed close to his sister while the medics began examining her. Then she turned her attention back to Aunt Birdie, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet in the past few moments. Not that she knew the woman all that well to know it wasn’t usual for her to be quiet, but since their impromptu meeting, the woman had much to say, so to be silent now was a little alarming.
Moving closer to the chair where the older woman still sat, Tamika took a chance and put her hand on top of hers before clearing her throat. “Miss…um, Bird…uh, ma’am? Are you alright? Is there something I can get you, or do you need to be seen by the paramedics as well?”
The woman cracked an eye open slowly, peering at Tamika as if she suspected she might be trying to steal something from her. “I take my coffee with lots of cream and sugar. And while you’re getting it, tell that woman to hurry with my room. I need to lay down.”
There was no sarcasm or edginess to her words, just simple statements spoken in a tone that said she’d been through a lot. For the second time today, or night, Tamika felt a pang of sorrow for the suffering people around her were going through. She’d known Aunt Birdie for about fifteen minutes, and yet that didn’t stop her from hurting for the woman who’d probably never experienced anything like this before.
Well, that made two of them, because as she left the parlor and headed to the kitchen, Tamika thought about the chaotic turn things had taken in her life. She didn’t know how it was all going to end and that frightened her, so much that she stood in the doorway of the kitchen and once again considered praying. Realizing the right words still wouldn’t come to her, she repeated what she’d said before, “Please. Please.” She hoped they’d be enough.
Chapter 17
In the week since Roark had been at the clubhouse, there’d never been as much activity as there was right now.
It was a little after ten in the morning, and breakfast was being served in the main dining room. This announcement from Dorianne had brought everyone downstairs to sit at the massive glossed oak table with its matching high-backed chairs. In the center of the table was an enormous fresh flower arrangement, and table settings had been arranged for each of the guests in the house.
“Like I said yesterday, fancy,” Sandra said when she made her way to the table and was about to take a seat in one of the chairs closest to the door.
Tuppence was right behind Sandra and immediately touched her arm. “It’s a beautiful day, Sandra; let’s sit closer to the window. And maybe later we can take a walk in the gardens. Roark told me all about them while he was helping me yesterday. He said his mother had a beautiful garden in London, but this one was bigger and better.”
Roark watched the two women walk and talk. There was a friendship there, not just an employee/employer relationship. He’d often seen that with
the way his mother had always dealt with the staff at their home in Hyde Park and the way his father had taught him to work alongside his staff at the oilwell. This line of thought steered him back to Aunt Birdie’s comment about him sleeping with the staff last night. Tamika hadn’t seemed too bothered by it, but it hadn’t sat right with Roark, and he wondered belatedly if he should’ve said something more to set his aunt straight.
There’d been so much going on last night that he hadn’t really had time to think everything through. Even now, after they all had finally been able to go to bed and get some rest, Roark still didn’t know what to expect next. This big “family” breakfast, for one, wasn’t anything he’d ever thought would be taking place. Not here, not with these particular people and especially not now.
“Good morning,” Suri said when she entered the room. “I was told to come down for breakfast.”
His sister looked a lot better this morning. Sure, she still had the marks from the glass that had shattered into her face, but as the paramedics had cleared her last night, she was going to be just fine. She’d pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail that made her look younger and wore white high-waisted pants with an orange top. As usual with Suri’s very coordinated style, there were orange bangle bracelets on one arm and orange hoop earrings in her ears.
“I was too,” Roark said when she came to stand beside him.
“This place is really nice. It’s a shame we haven’t been out here before now.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame about a lot of things,” he replied and then decided he didn’t want that to be the mood this morning. “Mum loved it here. She spent a lot of time decorating and redecorating. And she’s trained the staff to keep things exactly the way she wanted them.”
“Impeccable,” Suri said. “She had impeccable style and grace, and I’ve seen that here in the clubhouse at least. After breakfast I’ll go explore the rest of the grounds and the manor. I have a feeling I’ll be visiting much more frequently.”
“Maybe we should all make it a habit to visit more frequently, as a family.” The last was said as he watched Tamika and Aunt Birdie enter the room and take seats at the table.
When Tuppence signaled her, Tamika went to sit between her and Sandra. That meant she wouldn’t be sitting near Roark.
“Let’s sit,” he told Suri and escorted his sister to seats across the table from Tamika and her family.
Aunt Birdie went directly to the seat at the head of the table and sat down with the regal air she always carried. “Now this is more like it,” she said as she took the white linen napkin from the table, snapped it open and set it in her lap.
Moments after everyone was seated, Dorianne came in to announce, “The buffet is open.”
Roark thought Aunt Birdie was going to explode at that announcement. During the repast after his mother’s funeral, Aunt Birdie had made it clear how much she despised a buffet. “I’ll fix your plate,” he told his aunt.
His aunt who was in the process of rolling her eyes with much drama before she spared him a glance. “Thank you. Don’t skimp on the bacon. I’m not one of those ones with a sudden affliction to swine. And scones, I love vanilla scones.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Roark said and stood from his seat again. Just as he’d finished fixing Aunt Birdie’s plate and got her a cup of coffee, Roark noticed Cade entering the dining room. He immediately started walking toward his cousin, and that was when he noticed Pierce coming in behind him. And Ridge. “Oh, well, the gang is really and truly all here,” he quipped.
Ridge didn’t hide his annoyance. “Cade called me this morning, but I’m wondering why neither my brother nor sister thought about picking up their phone last night.”
At the sound of his ire, Suri forked a chunk of French toast dripping with maple syrup into her mouth.
“I’ll make the introductions, and then we can go into the parlor to talk,” Roark stated.
Cade had already walked past him. “And after we talk, I’m having breakfast.” He stopped at the head of the table and bent to kiss his aunt. “Aunt Birdie, my love. It’s good to see you as always.”
Aunt Birdie lifted a hand to cup Cade’s cheek. “Always the fresh one. Good morning, Cadence.”
Aunt Birdie liked to call everyone by their given names, even though she’d always gone by her nickname. It was something nobody in the family was allowed to question.
“We should talk. Now,” Pierce said. “Introductions can come later.”
Roark was used to being the serious and unyielding one in his family, but in this past week, Pierce had taken over that spot.
“Yeah, now,” Ridge said without going to speak to Aunt Birdie or anyone else at the table.
Roark followed them but paused to glance back at Tamika before leaving. She was about to stand and come join them, but he shook his head. “Stay. I’ll fill you in later.”
He was certain she didn’t like that, but her mother leaned over to whisper something to her, and she looked away from him. Roark left the dining room and walked toward the parlor.
Cade was last to come into the room, chewing on a piece of bacon while holding a sausage in his hand.
“How can you eat at a time like this?” Ridge asked.
“Easy.” Cade took a bite of the sausage. “Like this.”
Ridge shook his head, and Pierce moved to stand in what Roark was thinking might be the guy’s favorite spot in this room—near the window. “How the hell could you not call me and tell me that our sister and aunt were nearly blown the hell up?” As Ridge was normally the more laid-back brother, this burst of temper was different, but not surprising. His brother was right, again.
“I should’ve called, but to be fair, I was dealing with a lot here. Aunt Birdie and Suri showing up in the middle of the night looking like they’d been in a battle, learning that our mother was hunted and killed by her former classmate, having to secure this place like we’re in a war to keep everyone safe. I had a bit on my plate at that time, Ridge.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Ridge replied. “We agreed to no more secrets.”
“And I wasn’t keeping any. I told you everything that was going on, up until last night. It’s ten in the damn morning, man. Cut me some slack.” Roark may have been asking for slack, but really, he wasn’t giving Ridge much choice. He wasn’t going to defend himself against not telling him about the explosion again; the explanation he just gave would have to suffice.
“I think we have more serious things at stake,” Pierce stated evenly.
“Yeah,” Cade said, brushing his hands together because he didn’t have a napkin. “Here’s the thing. Our profile described Kaymen as an organized serial arsonist suffering from a psychotic break. Now, while we’re clear on the car accident/fire forty-five years ago. And the fact that his friends left him for dead in a burning car. That’s the central incident. But we still haven’t closed in on what the most recent stressor was that took him from just being angry at his friends to wanting to see each of them dead.”
“Okay, give me a second to catch up. The last status email I got from Roark was yesterday morning, and all it stated was that the fire investigator’s mother admitted she knew Mum and that you two had figured out there was a group of friends from college that connected Mum to the victims of the most recent fire. Now, we know who the killer is and we’re just sitting around here talking about it instead of going out to arrest his sorry ass.” Ridge was still angry.
“There was another fire in London last week, and it killed two more members of the group of friends. That’s how we know who the killer is.” Pierce was obviously irritated that he’d had to go over that part again.
“His name is Kaymen Benedict,” Roark said. “Does that ring any bells for you? Have you ever heard Mum talk about him?”
Ridge frowned. “No. I’ve never heard that name before.”
“Okay, you’re all caught up,” Pierce snapped. “Last night’s explosion is out of character for the killer we pr
ofiled.”
“What? He left a bomb with the hopes of killing my sister and my aunt. How is that out of character?” Roark asked.
Cade shook his head. “He doesn’t do bombs. He starts fires, and that’s probably because a part of him died in a fire. That explains why he wants his former friends to watch as he burns them alive, because they left him while he essentially did the same thing.”
Roark sighed. “I get that, but—”
“Changing his methods isn’t part of the profile,” Pierce said.
“Unless he’s devolving,” Cade added.
Ridge frowned. “He’s what?”
“Unraveling, rapidly losing all grip on reality because the scenario he set up to avenge his grievance is starting to go wrong. Sandra didn’t die in the fire he set at the cottage.” Cade’s expression was serious as he continued. “Then when he went to kill Ronnella McCoy, he stumbled across his other friend, Tony Graves.”
“How do you know he didn’t already know Graves was there with her?” Roark was listening to his cousin and to Pierce, trying to follow their line of thought.
“Because after I left the MPD yesterday, I drove to Hyde Park and questioned some of Ronnella McCoy’s friends. They said she wasn’t dating anyone and she wasn’t even supposed to be in town on the night of the fire. She’d been booked on a cruise but had cancelled for some reason. I checked out the cruise logs, and she was booked on a three-week Mediterranean cruise. My friend at the MPD had already performed a data dump on Ronnella and Tony’s phones. They’d been in contact on and off for the past three months, but almost every day in the past two weeks. Tony called her an hour before she was supposed to leave for the airport the morning of the cruise.”
“So she cancelled a cruise for a date and ended up dead.” Ridge rubbed a hand over his jaw. “What the hell is going on?”
“We’re thinking that maybe if your mother warned Lemuel and Sandra Rayder about Kaymen being alive, she would’ve also warned Ronnella and Tony. Now, they may not have believed her, just as the Rayders didn’t take it very seriously. But, there’s no way Ronnella wouldn’t have heard about your mother’s death; even if, by chance she and your mother had no other contact with each other, they lived close to each other, and news of the fire was in the local papers,” Pierce added.