No One Left to Tell

by Karen Rose

  “We still have to find who murdered her,” Grayson said. “For now, the best suspect is Rex, but I couldn’t even get a grand jury convened on what we have. After this much time, I don’t expect any physical evidence to remain. I need a witness who wasn’t high or drunk that night, and who saw Rex emerge from the gardener’s shed with bloody pruning shears, and I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  Joseph pointed at the key. “The sister knows something. Brittany.”

  “We’ve got a BOLO on her, too, and her kid,” Stevie said. “If she’s using her own car, she’s kept to back roads. Hasn’t gone through a single toll station.”

  “She hasn’t used any of her credit cards,” Paige said, and everyone stared at her. “What? It’s not hard to look. My phone alarms if one of her cards gets swiped.”

  “She’s gone under,” Daphne said. “Probably terrified she’ll get blown up. Too bad we don’t know which bank she has her safe-deposit box at.”

  “Maybe we do.” Grayson went to his safe and got out the envelope Brittany had given them the day before. “Crystal had an account in Brittany’s name and Brittany kept it active until about six months ago. Maybe her box is there, too.”

  “We’ll need a court order to get into it,” Stevie said. She looked at Daphne.

  “Write it up, sugar. I’ll get a judge to sign it.”

  “We need a court order for Brittany’s bank account, too,” Grayson remembered. “I meant to ask for it last night, but things got a little busy.”

  “Can I see that key?” Paige said, then held it up to the light when Grayson handed it to her. “Remember the little kinks in the medallion’s ribbon? I bet they’ll match the teeth in this key. Brittany had the key with the medallion. She purposely held it back.”

  “What is that girl up to?” Stevie wondered.

  “That’s why we need to get inside the charity,” Grayson said. “Brittany was full of shit, but she gave us the medallion for a reason.”

  “I can go to Reba’s office,” Daphne said quietly. “I can be Paige’s sponsor.”

  All eyes turned to her and for a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. Grayson wasn’t sure what to say. “Daphne, I, um, appreciate it, but you’re… memorable. If anyone’s ever seen you in court, your cover will be blown in a heartbeat.”

  Daphne’s lips curved. “Memorable. I like that.” She picked up her enormous neon orange handbag from the floor. “I’ll see you later. No, don’t get up. I’ll see myself out.”

  Grayson winced when the door closed. “I hurt her feelings.”

  Paige smacked his arm. “Y’think? Jeez.”

  “But she is memorable,” Grayson said, then rubbed his arm. “Ow.”

  “No woman likes to be called ‘memorable’ in that way,” Joseph said, rebuke in his voice. “Especially a woman like that.”

  Stevie gave Grayson a pitying look. “You’re going to have to fix that and don’t ask me how. You’re on your own.”

  “Great.” Morosely he stared at the door. “I’ll think of something. Until then, what do we do about Reba McCloud and the MAC records?”

  “We’ll need to set up an undercover op,” Stevie said. “But it’ll take a little time.”

  “How much time?” Joseph asked.

  “Why?” Stevie tilted her head. “You got another idea?”

  “Only a vague one. Probably not actionable,” Joseph said.

  Grayson studied him. “You’d do it? You’d be our sponsor?”

  “If we can’t get anyone else. I have the bank balance Reba would be looking for and a sister who’d benefit from Paige’s school. I could be a credible sponsor.”

  “If she doesn’t check your employment record,” Paige said. “‘FBI’ will kind of stick out.” She patted his arm. “When I start my real school, I’m hitting you up for funds.”

  Joseph frowned. “I thought it was just a ruse.”

  “No, it’s not.” She looked at Stevie. “How much time to get the undercover set up?”

  “A day or so.”

  Grayson nodded. “Do it,” he said to Stevie. “Please.”

  “I’ll get it started as soon as I get back to the office. Until then, Kapansky’s at the top of my list because he’s the closest we have to the guy who hired the hit on you two.”

  “If he’s still alive,” Paige said. “Silas may have killed him.”

  Stevie flinched. “Based on the blood loss, Kapansky’s almost certainly dead. But if he did manage to survive, he would have needed medical help. He’s not in any area hospital, because I’ve checked. I searched his apartment. No sign of bank records.”

  “Finding his money could take a while,” Grayson said. “A lot of ex-cons set up accounts in a family member’s name so we can’t touch them.”

  “We’re checking his next of kin. He’s got a mother, but so far she’s not cooperating.”

  “Who’s working her?” Grayson asked.

  “Morton and Bashears.”

  Paige rolled her eyes. “Great. For all we know, they’re involved.”

  “I don’t think so,” Stevie said. “Bashears wanted to go public that Sandoval didn’t commit suicide. He was basically told if he said a word, he’d lose his pension. I don’t think they could make that stick, but it’s a hell of a threat. Of course I never dreamed Silas could be involved either, so my judgment’s not so good right now.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Stevie,” Grayson said.

  “Why should I?” she asked bitterly. “IA’ll do that for me. Hyatt believes I didn’t know, but with IA, you can never tell. What about your boss, Grayson? He knew about Muñoz. He’s definitely involved.”

  “He is.” Grayson told them about the search he’d run on the Anderson/Bond cases. “He’s case fixing and I need to tell someone. It just has to be the right someone.”

  “You think his superiors know?” Joseph asked, taking the chair Daphne had vacated.

  “Don’t know. Until I do, I don’t want to talk to the wrong person. If I officially report him, it could get back to him and he’ll clean up anything that could incriminate him.”

  “Including people?” Joseph asked soberly.

  “Maybe. That he ordered last night’s hit has occurred to me more than once. He may even be the man in the photo, paying off Sandoval.” He grimaced. “I need to eat. My stomach’s been growling since we walked in the door.”

  “I brought deli meat if anyone wants a sandwich,” Joseph said.

  “Thank you,” Grayson said. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  Joseph shrugged. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “New phones, computer, loaning us your car,” Paige said. She plucked at the collar of her Kevlar vest. “My newest foundational garment. You’ve done a lot, Joseph. I know you have an important job and you’ve taken time away from it for us. Thank you.”

  “You still can’t keep the untraceable Wi-Fi card,” Joseph said, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. “I’ll get the meat and the bread.”

  Stevie also rose. “I can’t stay. I have work to do.”

  “You gotta eat, Stevie,” Joseph said. “You really do look like shit. You’ve been up all night for the past two nights.”

  “So have they,” Stevie said, pointing to Grayson and Paige.

  “But they’re having sex,” Joseph said, making Paige sputter. “It’s rejuvenating. You need to eat like the rest of us non-sex-getting people.”

  Stevie laughed and Grayson knew that had been Joseph’s intent. “I’ll make my sandwich to go,” she said. “I have to get back and set up our entrée into Reba’s inner circle.”

  Thursday, April 7, 12:55 p.m.

  Silas was set up. And ready to go. But his palms were clammy. They know it’s me. The cops had a BOLO out. Like I’m a normal, ordinary criminal. And wasn’t he?

  He looked at the street from his position on the roof of the house across from Grayson Smith’s home. There was one good thing about old Baltimore row houses
—many had facades along the roofline, perfect for hiding behind. The house Silas had chosen was taller than the two on either side. No one could see him, front or side.

  Importantly, it had a black roof. Perfect for blending into. Especially if the cops took their search to the air. Which could happen. I have to be prepared.

  He just needed to be patient, because the other good thing about Smith’s house was that it had no garage. Cars were parked on the street. Smith and Holden would have to come out of the house eventually.

  They were inside with another man. He was big, although not as big as Smith, whose shoulders were broader than the side of a barn. It would be no issue to shoot Smith through the heart. Except that the second guy kept blocking his view.

  Silas could see into the house through the windows on either side of the front door. All he needed was to get a clear shot of either Holden or Smith. Once he shot one, the other would run to their lover’s aid. It was human nature.

  He’d have to kill the other guy, too, because anyone he left behind would call 911. Silas couldn’t have that. He needed to be able to get away. He needed to make his employer pay. Because Silas had no intention of trading himself for Violet. He’d kill the sonofabitch and get his child out. Or die trying.

  There is no try. He’d get Violet out. And then the two of them would go far away. And heal. Rose. I’m so sorry. He needed to get her body. Bury her. Grieve. But grieving was a luxury he could not allow himself. He had to wait, finger poised. As soon as Grayson or Paige walked in front of that window, he needed to shoot.

  He needed to kill. It shouldn’t be an issue. He’d killed so many already.

  But his palms still sweated and his body trembled. He imagined Stevie had found his safe, found the bankbook and the guns. She’d be able to do ballistics on the guns to close all those cases. Give the families peace.

  He hoped he hadn’t caused her any career damage. Because that wouldn’t be fair. She was the best cop he’d ever known. Certainly better than me. She didn’t deserve this. Neither did Smith. He was a damn good prosecutor. He’d just run afoul of the wrong man. Charlie Anderson had always wanted an opportunity to crush Smith.

  It was too bad that Grayson had such an Achilles’ heel. He couldn’t help who his father was. But we all have our vulnerabilities. Mine was named Cherri. I would have died for her. And Silas knew that before all this was over, he just might.

  Thursday, April 7, 1:05 p.m.

  “Now what?” Paige asked, clearing the remnants of lunch from the table. Stevie had gone back to the office and it was just her and Grayson and Joseph, who made no move to leave. Watching Joseph, Paige had concluded that their near miss had shaken him soundly. The brothers loved each other, even though they shared no blood.

  If she hadn’t already decided that she liked Joseph, that would have clinched it.

  “I’m going to ask Charlie Anderson to meet me,” Grayson said.

  “What?” Joseph exploded. “You said you didn’t want to tip him off.”

  “I don’t plan to. I’m going to try to pay him off. Look, he threatened to tell everyone my secret if I didn’t back off the Muñoz case. He doesn’t know I’ve told everyone who matters. I’m going to take advantage of last night’s blast and tell him I’ve reconsidered my position. I’ll offer him money for his silence. If he takes it, I’ll have my proof.”

  Paige’s first reaction was the same as Joseph’s, but she kept her voice calm. “What if he uses your bribe to accuse you of corruption? He’d have his proof, too.”

  “I thought of that,” Grayson said levelly. “I’m going to tell Stevie to have Hyatt there, at the meet, and before Anderson gets there, I’m going to tell them both the truth. About my name.” He shrugged. “It’s not that big a secret anyway. Everyone already knows.”

  “And if Anderson tries to kill you?” Joseph asked. He’d grown a little pale.

  “I need to know, Joseph.”

  “Will you at least let me cover you?” Joseph asked.

  “Yes, but I want to do it this afternoon. If he finds out I’ve seen Reba, my decision to fold to his threat won’t be credible. I want to mention the bomb. Watch his face.”

  “Would you know if he were lying?” Paige asked.

  “I think I might. I need to try.”

  “You’ll wear a wire,” Joseph stated.

  “Okay. Fit me up.” They discussed the details, becoming so engrossed that the knock at the front door had them jumping. Grayson leaned around the table to check the side window. “Were you expecting a woman, Joseph?”

  “Not me. Stay here. I’ll see who it is.” He opened the door a few inches. “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for a Miss Paige Holden.” The woman’s voice was measured. Cultured.

  “May I ask what this is in reference to?” Joseph asked. His own voice had changed, Paige noted. It was normally deep, but it had just gone all smooth. Her curiosity was piqued.

  “A business proposition,” the woman said. “May I come in?”

  “Certainly,” Joseph said and the woman glided across the foyer in very expensive shoes. Her dress was equally expensive. Elegant. Her blond hair was swept into the same French twist Reba had worn.

  They could be Stepford Wives, Paige thought. Then sat back as realization hit, unable to believe her own eyes, stifling the urge to laugh aloud. Grayson didn’t yet know who stood before him. Joseph closed the door, never taking his eyes from the woman.

  “I’m Paige Holden,” Paige said, playing along. “And you are?”

  The woman smiled. “I understand you need a sponsor for a nonprofit enterprise.”

  Grayson came slowly to his feet. “How would you know that?”

  “I’ve talked with Reba. She told me a few of the details. I’d like to hear more.”

  Paige chuckled. “Grayson, look closer. Closer.”

  He did and his mouth literally fell open. “Daphne?”

  Daphne smiled, not the open, delightfully warm smile Paige had seen earlier, but a very subdued, refined smile. The woman was amazingly good.

  Paige got up and walked around Daphne. She pointed to the dress. “McQueen?”

  “Yes,” she said demurely. “You’ve got a good eye.”

  “Champagne taste on a beer budget, I’m afraid.” Paige came closer, studying Daphne’s flawless makeup. “You look ten years younger. What did you do?”

  “Made herself up to look ten years older before,” Joseph said quietly.

  Daphne gave him a considering look. “You’ve got a good eye, too.”

  “But why?” Paige asked. “Why would you want to look older every day?”

  Grayson sat down abruptly. “It’s Ford, isn’t it? The makeup. The hair.”

  “Who’s Ford?” Joseph asked.

  “My son,” Daphne said, maintaining her sophistication. Her dignity. “He’s nineteen.”

  “Oh,” Paige breathed, doing the math. “You’re, what, thirty-five?”

  “Give or take,” she murmured. “I was two weeks shy of my sixteenth birthday when he was born. If you’d known that, Grayson, what would you have thought of me?”

  “Nothing different,” Grayson said. “Maybe more. Young mother, raised her son to be a nice young man. I’m a little angry you thought I’d think less of you.”

  “Maybe you wouldn’t, but others have. They question your wisdom and your ability to make decisions for yourself. They think you’re flighty. And stupid. And annoying.”

  “I wouldn’t have,” Grayson said simply.

  “You think I’m annoying.”

  “That is fair,” he allowed. “But only because you mother me. And you kept making me peach cobbler. And your hair attracts bees.”

  “Was it good?” Joseph asked. “The cobbler.”

  “Best in Riverdale, West Virginia,” Daphne told him. “I’m sorry, Grayson. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d disregard me. But people have.”

  “I need to know it all,” Paige said. “Where did you get the clo
thes?”

  “They’re mine. From my life before this one. I was married. Then divorced. Younger secretary, same old story. You think it won’t happen to you, until it does.”

  “Pig,” Paige muttered.

  Daphne’s lips twitched. “Aptly put. The husband wanted a certain kind of wife. I was eager to please. I lost myself during those years. After the divorce, I went back to being me. Big bee-attracting hair and all. What you see now is a facade. What you saw this morning is me.”

  “I liked the you I saw this morning,” Paige said. “But I want to borrow clothes from the facade chick.”

  Daphne laughed throatily. “Anytime. I’ve got closets of clothes that haven’t been worn in years. And that’s after I cleaned most of it out for charity.”

  “So did you really talk to Reba?” Grayson asked. “Or was that a facade, too?”

  “Oh, I talked to her all right. By now she’s checked my credit and my social standing and found me quite desirable as a sponsor.”

  “How did you manage that?” Paige asked.

  Daphne winked at her. “Because I’m rich, sugar,” she said in her twang. “Filthy.”

  “You took the secretary-banger to the alimony cleaner’s,” Paige said. “Good for you.”

  Something flickered in Daphne’s eyes. “Paige, we have an appointment with Reba in ninety minutes. Do you plan to wear that? Because your Kevlar is showing.”

  “Don’t even think of not wearing the Kevlar,” Grayson said. “And don’t think of going there alone. I’ll go with you.”

  “Reba didn’t like you,” Paige said. “You dissed her family name.”

  “I’ll go,” Joseph said.

  “No,” Paige said, “because you’ll be covering Grayson when he confronts Anderson.” She lifted her hand to Grayson’s face, touched his forehead next to the cut from the night before. “I won’t go anywhere alone. Promise me you won’t, either.”

  He turned his face, pressing his lips to the inside of her arm. “I promise.”

  Daphne frowned. “What kind of half-assed plan is confronting Anderson?”

  “Only a quarter-assed,” Joseph said. “Tell him to meet you at Giuseppe’s.”

  “What’s Giuseppe’s?” Daphne asked Paige in a whisper.