by Karen Rose
A hoarse cry behind them had everyone turning to the front door. Izzy stood there, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God.”
Grayson put his arm around Izzy’s shoulders, standing so that he blocked her view of Silas’s body. “Didn’t Stevie tell you that he was dead?”
“Yes.” Izzy gulped in air. “But I’ve never seen a dead body before.”
Hyatt rose. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I need to get your statement.”
“Fine,” Izzy said shakily. She passed by Paige on her way to the kitchen. “You and Grayson should check on Stevie before you leave.”
“I will,” Paige promised, understanding. Izzy had left her backpack with Stevie.
Izzy hugged Paige hard. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You two saved our lives.”
“Thanks for the makeup. We’re even now.”
Izzy’s chuckle was small and watery. She went to the kitchen, but turned back at the swinging doors, her brows knit. “He said he had to kill you both by midnight.”
“When did he tell you this?” Hyatt asked.
“While we were waiting for Stevie to come home. He wasn’t coherent there for a while. He kept muttering something about cherries. He kept blaming the cherries for everything. Said he’d sold his soul for the ‘damn cherry.’”
“His daughter’s name was Cherri,” Grayson told her. “She died the day Violet was born. She was Violet’s mother.”
Izzy blinked. “I guess that explains it. He cursed a lot. He didn’t like Grayson, either. He kept muttering, ‘Damn lawyer. I’ll kill him.’” She looked at Grayson, troubled. “He had plans for you. Sick plans.”
Paige, Grayson, and Hyatt exchanged glances.
“What kind of sick plans?” Grayson asked.
Izzy grimaced. “Gutting, mutilation… slicing off certain body parts and making you eat them. Cordelia was so frightened. I only hope she didn’t understand most of what he said. He was sick. And so angry.”
“And he didn’t say anything else? Did he call me by name?” Grayson pressed.
“No. He just called you ‘the damn lawyer.’” Her eyes widened. “Wait. He wasn’t talking about you, was he? That makes sense, because later he told Stevie if she cooperated, he’d make your death painless and fast.”
“What else did he say?” Hyatt asked urgently.
“Just that he was sorry, that he didn’t want to hurt us. Then Stevie came and he got all businesslike.” Izzy swallowed hard. “She asked if he’d really sacrifice her child for his and he said, ‘In a heartbeat.’ Stevie knew she couldn’t reason with him.”
“So she held on and waited for us,” Grayson said quietly. “Poor Stevie.”
“Yeah,” Izzy agreed. “She knew you were coming, but I didn’t.” She closed her eyes. “I honestly thought he’d kill us. I thought we were dead. If you two hadn’t come when you did… If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit now.”
Hyatt held the kitchen door open for her, watching as she sat at the table, new tears streaming down her cheeks.
“We really are looking for a lawyer,” Hyatt said. “Anderson wasn’t lying about that, at least. Somewhere there’s a lawyer pulling all the strings and he had Silas under his control. If the bankbook we found in Silas’s house is any indication, Silas was his hired gun for years. Are you still meeting Thorne to get information on Bob Bond’s old firm?”
“He was supposed to come here,” Grayson answered. “I’ll call him, arrange another meeting place. If you don’t need us anymore, we’ll check on Stevie and go home.”
Hyatt gave him a scrutinizing look. “Where will you really be?” he asked.
Grayson didn’t seem surprised. “My brother’s house. Joseph Carter.”
“Fine. I’ll need your written statements, but I can collect them later. Call me when you get anything on the lawyer. It could be our best lead to finding Silas’s daughter.”
“I will call you the moment we know something,” Grayson promised. “Paige? Let’s go.”
Twenty-three
Thursday, April 7, 7:00 p.m.
“That was hard,” Paige said as they drove away, Peabody in the backseat.
“I know,” Grayson said. They’d found Stevie and Cordelia at the neighbor’s kitchen table, Stevie rocking as Cordelia clutched her. Stevie’s face was blotchy, eyes swollen.
She’d broken down again when they’d entered the neighbor’s kitchen and Grayson had led her to another room, so they could grieve together for the Silas they thought they’d known.
Paige and Peabody had stayed with Cordelia, who started to cry again when her mother did. “She petted Peabody’s head like I do when I’m stressed,” Paige murmured.
“It’s a wonder your dog has any hair left on his head,” Grayson said sadly. “I haven’t seen Stevie cry like that since Paul died.” The image of her stricken face made him remember a different day, when he was Cordelia’s age. “That’s how my mother looked, after she’d hit that victim’s father with the baseball bat.” When he would have killed me. “It’s been almost thirty years and I can’t forget her face.”
Paige looked over her shoulder. “Speaking of your mother… The news crew outside Stevie’s house filmed us leaving. We’ll be top of the hour again soon and you don’t want her to hear about another near miss from Phin Radcliffe. You should call her.”
“You’re right.” He handed Paige his cell, gave her his mother’s number. “Can you dial?” His mother answered on the first ring. “I’m all right,” he said before she could say any more. “I’m alive, no scratches. My underwear’s even still clean.”
His mother laughed, but there was a sob mixed in. “I know,” she said. “I saw you and Paige leaving Stevie’s house. You’re on the news again. I’m so glad that man is dead. Both men. I saw that your boss, that horrid little man, shot himself.”
“He did.”
“Then it’s over.”
It wasn’t over, not by a long shot. But he’d be damned before he told her that. She’d just worry more. “There are still a few loose ends to be tied.”
“Well, tie them fast. Holly’s going to the center and asked if Paige is still coming.”
“Can’t she wait till next week to go? We can’t get there tonight and I worry about those guys who are bothering her.”
“I’m going with her tonight,” his mother said. “I’ll watch over her.”
Grayson frowned. “Well, if you’re with her, I guess it’s okay.”
“I’ll carry a trusty briefcase,” she said dryly. “Love you, son.”
“I love you, too.” He hung up, glanced over at Paige, found her smiling. “What?”
“I like that you tell your mother you love her. In all this mess, it’s a nice respite.”
“Thank you. And thank you for saving my life in there, disarming Silas.”
“Then I guess we’re even, too.”
“No, because I saved your life twice. In the garage and last night.”
Her smile dimmed. “Let’s just hope we’re never able to make it even, then. When all those shots were fired, I thought he’d gotten one into you.”
“Me, too,” he said, as she brought his hand to her cheek and held it there. It felt right. “I’m glad CSU wouldn’t let us stay in my house. We would have been too late. Stevie wouldn’t have cooperated with him and he’d have killed them all.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Stevie seems like a rock, but even she can’t say what she’d have done if it had gone on further. She didn’t cooperate with him at first because she knew we were coming. She was stalling for time.”
“In that case, I’m glad she didn’t have to make the choice.”
“Me, too.” Paige released his hand. “Hyatt was angry at Detective Morton.”
“I know,” he said with a frown. “Morton didn’t have to aim for Silas’s head.”
“It’s possible that she saw Silas pointing a gun at you and made a split-second decision,” she said slowly.
“But…”
“But you’re wondering about her again,” Grayson said. “So am I.”
“Yeah. I mean, Silas was working for this lawyer brokering all these deals. It makes sense that he was the one to frame Ramon, right? But there’s something about Morton that I don’t trust. Maybe it’s because I don’t like her. I don’t know.”
“I think Hyatt was suspicious, too. It makes me wonder what IA’s dug up that they’re not telling us.”
“Exactly. Although we do have our own secrets. I almost told Hyatt about the MAC kids, but I just couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I think part of me wanted to finish the investigation myself, you know, to have my ducks in a row. But the other part of me doesn’t trust Hyatt, either.” She leaned forward to retrieve the laptop from her backpack, then glanced over at him. “Are we really staying with Joseph tonight?”
“No. We’ll stay at my mother’s. She can stay in the main house with Jack and Katherine. Joseph has the property locked down tighter than Fort Knox.”
“Will she mind Peabody coming with us?”
“When she hears the dog bit Silas, she’ll probably go out and buy him a bone.”
“He did good today. And I’d have shot that bitch Morton myself if she’d hurt him.”
“I’d have helped you.” His cell began to buzz. “I don’t recognize this number.”
“The last time that happened, it was very bad.”
That was an understatement. “This is Smith,” he answered cautiously.
“This is Thomas Thorne. I’m a block away from Stevie’s house and there are cops all over the damn place. What the hell’s going on?”
“Silas Dandridge held Stevie, her daughter, and her sister hostage. He’s dead.”
Thorne hissed a curse. “Did Stevie have to do it?”
“No. She shot him, but the kill shot was done by one of the other cops. She’s too rattled to meet us. Is there somewhere else we can talk?”
“Come to my club, Sheidalin. My office is soundproofed. Nobody will bother us.”
“Did you get any information on Bob Bond’s old law firm?”
“If I did, would you care how I got it?”
“Of course. But I’m getting very good at forgetting things. Who are you, again?”
Thorne laughed, a big booming sound. “Fine. I got the list of current employees, along with personnel files and photos. Meet me at Sheidalin and we’ll sort through it.”
“Thanks.” Grayson hung up and did a U-turn at the next light. “We’re going clubbing.”
Paige looked down at her gi. “I’ll look like I’m made up for Halloween.”
“Based on what I’ve heard about this place, you’ll fit right in.” He pointed to the laptop. “You left off at 1991. Where are the rest of the women who were MAC girls?”
“Susan McFarland, 1991.” A few minutes later she sighed. “Dead. Suicide.”
“I’ll call Lucy Trask,” he said. “You can give her the names of the autopsy reports we need so far. At least she can get started. Keep going. There are only six left.”
Thursday, April 7, 7:00 p.m.
Silas was dead. Goddammit.
He stood looking down at Violet Dandridge, still breathing evenly, still in a deep sleep. He could kill her now, but he had no idea what Silas had told the cops before he was shot. If Silas had named names… They’ll come after me. They could be on their way already. I’ll need a trade. A seven-year-old girl would make a good trade.
If it came to that, of course. If Silas had said nothing, there was nothing to fear.
He hit speed-dial nine on his cell. He’d have to change the speed-dial settings. He no longer needed Silas, Roscoe “Jesse” James, or Harlan Kapansky. Speed-dial nine could move up. Maybe even become speed-dial one.
“What?”
“We need to work on your telephone etiquette skills,” he murmured. “What did Silas say before he died?”
“Nothing.”
“Good to know.” Very good. Now his main concern was that state’s attorney and his PI who continued to dig up what was best left buried.
“Except that someone had taken his kid. Was it you?”
He glanced down at Violet. “Not your business. I have an assignment for you.”
There was hesitation. “I did what you wanted.”
“And you’ll continue to do so. That’s how this works. Silas had his Violet. You have your Christopher. He’s what… twelve by now? Is he still walking with crutches? Sad, sad thing, that hit-and-run,” he said mockingly. “Did they ever catch who did it?”
The swallow was audible. The tone impotent fury. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’m so glad we understand each other. People with families are so predictable, I’ve found. Grayson has a mother. Call me when you have her in your sights.”
Thursday, April 7, 7:45 p.m.
“One,” Paige said quietly. “One is still alive. Out of sixteen years. Sixteen girls.”
They’d parked in front of Thorne’s club, where they sat, stunned. “Who’s still alive?” Grayson asked.
“Her name is Adele Shaffer, maiden name was Masterson. She married Darren Shaffer six years ago and they have a little girl, Allison. Darren had been working for an overseas company until last year, when they moved back. Adele is the only one left.”
“Let’s get the law firm’s personnel list from Thorne and then we’ll find her. Warn her. And find out what the hell happened when she was twelve.”
“What about Peabody?” Paige asked when they got out of the car.
“Do sharp noises bother him? Like cracking whips?”
She swung her backpack to her shoulder, her eyes wide. “Not that I know of.”
“Then he’ll be fine.” He snapped Peabody’s leash on his collar. “Let’s go.”
The club was dark, the music loud, and the bouncer was freaking enormous. His name tag said MING. He let them in, not giving her gi or Peabody a second glance.
“I was told to expect you,” Ming said. “Thorne’s office is the first door on the right.”
The office door opened and Paige found herself craning her neck to look up. Thomas Thorne was bigger than the bouncer. He had to be six six and exuded a dangerous sexuality. It was a wonder he didn’t have a dozen women pawing him.
There was only one woman with him and she wasn’t doing any pawing. She was typing into a computer and scowling at the screen.
“I’m Thomas Thorne,” he said, shaking Paige’s hand. “This is my business partner, Gwyn Weaver. Gwyn, State’s Attorney Grayson Smith and his PI, Paige Holden.”
Gwyn was a tiny brunette who would have been beautiful without the angry frown. “Nice to meet you. Nicer if you could figure out what’s wrong with my spreadsheet.”
“Take a walk,” Thorne told her. “You always find the glitch after you’ve had a walk.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes. “Which is Thorne’s way of telling me to get lost.” She left the office, her scowl still firmly locked in place. Paige wondered if she scowled all the time.
Thorne closed the door behind her. “Sorry about that. Gwyn’s not been herself for a while.” He pointed to the small table in the corner. “Let’s sit.”
“You have the personnel lists from Bond’s law firm?” Grayson asked.
“I said I did.” Thorne regarded Grayson with some suspicion. “I have to say, though, I was surprised when Stevie approached me.”
“How so?” Grayson asked. The two men, normally on opposite sides of the legal table, assessed each other. Paige wanted to snap at them to hurry up, but realized it wasn’t easy for Grayson to trust a defense attorney, so she swallowed her impatience.
“I wasn’t all that surprised to hear there was case fixing in the prosecutor’s office,” Thorne said. “I’ve wondered a few times, but never had any proof. And before you ask, I never have, never will fix a case or use illegal means to defend a client.”
“I would
n’t be here if I thought you would. So what did surprise you?”
“Well, that Bond’s firm is suspected of involvement, for one. They’re an old firm with an excellent reputation. But mostly I was surprised to hear that it was you who wanted the information, Smith. I expected you to insist on a subpoena.”
Grayson flushed, but didn’t look away. “I’m within my rights to request a list of personnel with employment dates, but people are dying,” he said harshly. “We can’t afford to delay and we can’t afford for this firm to know we’re looking at them. Not yet. Stevie and I needed someone that an employee inside a defense firm would trust enough to give personnel files to. We figured they’d trust another defense attorney. We needed someone we could trust not to share that we’d asked for the information to begin with. Stevie trusts you, so I will, too. For now. For this.”
This seemed to satisfy Thorne, who slid a folder across the table. “These are current employees of Bob Bond’s firm who also worked there at the time of Crystal Jones’s murder, sorted by gender. Stevie said you were looking for a man.”
The folder was full of employees’ personnel records and photos, all male.
“Jackpot,” Paige murmured. “Do you know any of these guys, Thorne?”
“One of the partners,” he said. “He’s arrogant, but a crook, fixing cases? I wouldn’t have thought so. I know several of the junior partners. None of them stand out as criminal.”
Paige began with the photos. Including partners, junior partners, clerks, paralegals, and office administrators, there were dozens. “We figure the guy who paid Sandoval was about six feet,” she said. “That narrows the list of employees considerably.”
“The man who paid Sandoval might not be the lawyer we’re looking for,” Grayson cautioned. “Anderson said he was probably one of Bond’s flunkies.”
“And maybe he was,” Paige said, not looking up from the photos. “But he was important enough to get Sandoval killed for keeping his picture and Elena killed for stealing it, which makes me doubt he was a flunky.”