by Mary Stone
“I know.” Kylie stood up onto her tiptoes and gave him an actual lip-to-lip kiss. It was cool outside, but his lips were so warm. She wanted to sink into them. Sink into the rest of him. There may have been a fine line between protection and imprisonment, but at times like these, she didn’t mind either, as long as Linc was doing the keeping.
But when they parted, and she got into her car, she’d barely driven to the end of the block before those familiar nerves returned and she started to worry again.
If Jonathan Coulter knew everything about what happened at his office, did he also write that threatening note and put it under her windshield wiper? If it wasn’t him, did he know who had? With his wealth, did he have a person who cleaned up all of his messes?
And was she a new mess who needed to be dealt with?
Kylie shivered.
If she ever hoped to solve this case, she needed to get over her fear of Jonathan Coulter, and soon.
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
Which meddling kid should be the next to go?
I smiled, amused at myself as I watched Kylie Hatfield and Linc Coulter kiss on the sidewalk.
Scooby Doo had been my favorite show as a kid. I’d loved the ghosts. The mystery. And I loved how, even as a young child, I would sit and think about all the ways I wouldn’t have been caught, had I been the villain.
The smile faded as I watched them part ways, neither looking like they had a care in the world.
Which should go first?
Eeny or meeny?
Of course, I could wait until they were next together in that dilapidated farmhouse Linc Coulter called home. A can or two of gasoline, some matches.
Whoosh…Nate Jennings style.
All my problems burned to the ground. Well, except one.
The old crow.
Her old man had proven so easy to eliminate…but Emma Jennings was turning into much more of a challenge. Things had been so perfect as we followed my carefully laid plan.
We just needed to be patient, I’d told D a number of times. But no. D had gotten greedy.
Now, here we were.
On the defensive.
I didn’t like it. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I should be in bed, making love to my partner instead of sitting in this vehicle I’d bought in cash from the lot in Virginia. Actually, I’d bought two. One never knew when they’d need a covert giveaway.
Another detail of my planning.
Tapping on the screen of my phone, I watched the crow lying in her bed, her shaking hands lifting a teacup to her lips. A man appeared, the doctor, I recognized, and the crow waved him off when he attempted to take her blood pressure.
The crow was no good tonight. Too many people surrounding her.
I looked back up, in time to watch Linc and Kylie part ways.
Eeny. He strode to his truck, a man apparently on a mission.
Meeny. She bounced to her little hatchback, the dog at her side.
Miny. Linc was already in his truck, roaring it to life. He honked once before pulling from the curb.
Moe. As Kylie placed the paperwork in her car, the dog wondered into the grass to pee.
I smiled.
The game had chosen.
32
Heading back toward home, Linc was thinking hard.
He patted the jacket pocket in which he’d snuck the copy of the fax when Kylie wasn’t looking. He planned to go down to his dad’s place bright and early in the morning, confront him on it. He’d have the answers soon.
Kylie may have been suspicious of his father, but Linc knew his old man couldn’t be behind this. He didn’t care what the papers showed. His father had too many years in the business to suddenly start skimming other people’s money. There was some other explanation.
But what?
Curious, Linc called his dad’s cell phone, but it went right to voicemail.
With each mile he drove, the doubt grew. His father was and always had been ambitious, almost to a fault. He could be cutthroat if he wanted to be. More than once, he’d told Linc he had to go out and take what was his because no one would simply give it to him. If his dad had let his ambition overshadow his morals, he wouldn’t be the first person. And maybe he had been doing it all his life and this was the first time he’d been caught.
Linc drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking.
He couldn’t wait until tomorrow to find out. If he did, he’d go insane.
Pulling to the side of the road, he made a U-turn.
He’d just go talk to him. His dad’d be home by now, and Linc could begin to clear this up. It’d set his mind at ease, if nothing else, to know where he was.
As Linc drove, he picked up his phone and rescheduled the SAR class. It was an online one, anyway, and the producer assured him that enrollment was low because there’d been a glitch in the marketing campaign, so it’d be fine to give it a couple more weeks to gain interest. Relieved about that, he pushed on the gas and drove to Biltmore Forest.
He pulled into his parents’ driveway a few minutes later and climbed the steps to their front door. He rang the doorbell, and their butler answered. “Hi, Mason,” Linc said to him. Mason reached for Linc’s coat, but he shook his head. “Is my father in?”
His mother’s hearing was apparently sensitive to his voice. She appeared at the top of the staircase right away, her face lit up by his presence. “Oh, Lincoln, this is such a nice surprise.”
“Hi,” he said to her as she swept down toward him and took his hand. He gave her cheek a kiss. “Is Dad here?”
She nodded. “In his study. We just finished dinner.” She frowned. “Are you…is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Perfect. I just need to talk to him,” Linc said, striding toward the back of the house. He’d made sure his study was far removed from the noise of the home, and it was every bit what one would expect from a man’s study: mahogany walls, hunting trophies, the faint scent of cigar smoke. As a kid, Linc wasn’t allowed there, and he wasn’t sure he was much more welcome now. He knocked on the door anyway.
A muffled voice muttered, “Come in.” He looked up from a small circle of light created by his banker’s lamp and frowned. “Linc?” If his father was happy to see him, he didn’t let on.
“Dad.”
Jonathan Coulter set down his pen and straightened. “I’m in the middle of something important. What brings you down here now?”
Linc reached into his pocket and unfolded the printed fax. He spread it out and slammed it down on the desk in front of his father. “I think an explanation for this is more important.”
Jonathan’s eyes drifted to it without much interest before spearing into Linc. “I don’t have to explain anything.”
“Do you see what it is?” Linc said, tapping the paper. “It’s a notice, signed by you, stating that your client would not be contributing any longer to this charitable organization. We’ve found five organizations so far for which contributions ceased earlier this year.”
His dad flipped the page over. “So? This is standard practice.”
“The problem is that Mrs. Jennings didn’t authorize that these contributions be cancelled, and the money was still withdrawn from her account. It’s missing.”
“Mrs. Jennings?” He suddenly sounded interested. He lifted the page and stared at it. “Emma Jennings?”
“Yeah. She’s concerned. And she hired a private investigator to look into it.”
“Ah.” His dad put his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his fingertips. “You mean Kylie Hatfield, your girlfriend? I heard she was snooping about the offices. I told Dustin to give her whatever she was looking for. I have nothing to hide.”
“Well, there’s clearly something going on. Mrs. Jennings may be elderly, but she’s smart or she wouldn’t have hired a PI in the first place.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I’ve known Emma for decades. She’s a lovely woman, but since Arnold died, she’s been actin
g increasingly odd, and a bit paranoid. Starting a year or so ago, she began calling, concerned someone was after her money. I told her that everything is as it should be, she should stop worrying, and let us take care of her estate. I suppose she found me to be dismissive.” He sighed. “Perhaps I was. I’ll call her tomorrow and straighten this whole thing out. Satisfied?”
Linc stared at him. Jonathan Coulter could be a lion when he wanted to be, but anytime Linc tried to assert himself, he always made him feel like he was overreacting. Linc’s eyes slipped to the paper. “Tell me why you signed those papers.”
He let out a loud, booming laugh. “Emma must have asked me to. She’s suffering from dementia, boy. She can’t remember what she had for breakfast most days. No, I don’t recall her asking me to, but she’s not my only client. As for the money, I have no idea what she did with it. That’s something for her financial advisor to sort out.”
Linc sucked on his cheek, thinking. “So, would she ask you directly to do such a thing?”
“No. That’s why I have assistants. As you well know, Heather Collins has been my primary assistant since before you were born, and her assistant, Dustin Weiss, is a fine young man. He’s been in charge of the administrative work on the account for the past year. He has an impeccable record. In fact, he was recommended to me by Emma. He was her son’s roommate in college, I believe she told me.”
That caught Linc’s attention. “Emma’s…son?”
Jonathan waved a dismissive hand. “Grandson, nephew…something like that.” His dad sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Are we done with this inquisition because I really have to get back to work.”
Linc planted his palms on the enormous desk. The thing was huge—his dad’s motto was Go Big or Go Home—so the desk took up much of the room. Even so, he kept it immaculately clean. The only things on it were papers, a pen, and his elbows.
When Linc came closer to him, he dropped his elbows off the table as if he thought Linc might strike him. Or as if he couldn’t stand to be near his own son.
That made Linc pause.
This was his father, not a monster like Kylie seemed to think. The father no longer scared the son. Linc just had nothing in common with the man and couldn’t tolerate the insolence that dripped from his mouth.
Bullies, Linc knew, often barked more than they bit. And they ran with their tails between their legs when threatened in return.
“Look,” Linc said. As much as he didn’t want to be there, he needed his father’s help if he was going to help Kylie. “There’s something going on, and I need to get to the bottom of it.”
“You need to?” Jonathan’s lip was curled into a mocking sneer. “I thought it was your girlfriend’s case.”
“I don’t want her getting into it. Nate Jennings, Emma’s grandson, was murdered last night. Shot in the head.”
For the first time, his dad looked surprised. He lifted off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Shot?”
“Yeah. So, this is bigger than missing money.”
“How do you know that crime has anything to do with this?” He tapped the fax with his glasses.
Reluctantly, Linc admitted, “I don’t. But I don’t want to take chances with Kylie’s life. If the two are tied together, she could be in trouble.”
“Sounds to me like your girlfriend’s a tough cookie. She brought down that serial killer, remember?”
“She was almost killed bringing down a serial killer.” Linc didn’t even bother to share his role in that horrendous night. He didn’t want to relive it. And, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Linc’s father’s face transformed into a mask that was all too familiar. This was the face he used when he was going to verbally slaughter someone. “Does your girlfriend even really need you? Or are you just meddling because you want to feel useful?”
Linc let the verbal blow land and slide off. “If Nate is dead and your assistant knows him, you don’t think that’s too suspicious to be a coincidence?”
“Assistant’s assistant,” Jonathan corrected. “I know that you must be going insane up there on that mountain alone with your dogs, and you’re obviously coming up with wild conspiracy theories.”
Linc forced his hands to unclench, his face to relax. “For the last time, Father,” he said in the calmest voice he could muster, “I am not some mountain man living away from society and doing nothing with his life. I have a job, and it’s a good one. One that I like. One that I’m successful at. I know that you don’t think that’s possible since I’m not plodding along in your footsteps, but people define success in different ways. I don’t need the mansion or the BMW, and I sure as hell don’t want them. I’m happy with my life! Why can’t you accept that?”
Linc was standing above him, but his dad still managed to look down his nose. “I don’t care what you do on that mountain. What I do care about is when you come down here, accusing me of all kinds of ridiculous nonsense like I’m some two-bit criminal! How dare you.”
All the fight drained out of Linc’s system. “So, you’ll believe some ‘fine young man’ you’ve known all of a year over your own son? Is that what you’re saying?”
His dad pressed his lips together, and his nostrils flared. “I’m not—”
“If you’re not going to check him out, I’m going to get the police involved,” Linc said, grabbing the fax from the desk, turning on his heel, and heading toward the door.
“Wait,” Jonathan boomed. “Don’t do anything rash.”
“If this has been happening for months, it isn’t rash.” He turned back to face his father. “What I see is someone who insists on keeping his head in the sand, so go ahead. But don’t be surprised if your assistant’s assistant doesn’t show up to work tomorrow. You’ll know where to find him. Downtown, being questioned, which is something you should be doing.”
Jonathan threw up his hands, his face turning a mottled red. “Linc!”
But Linc pulled open the heavy mahogany door and walked into the hallway, nearly running into his mother, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “What on earth is going on, Lincoln?”
He shook his head and pocketed the fax. He’d get out to the car and call Jacob and ask him what he thought. Jacob wouldn’t think he was overreacting. “Nothing for you to worry about.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to go.”
“But you just got here.” She followed him closely, as if she was planning to bar him from stepping out the door.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll come another time.” His ire softened as he looked into her worried eyes. “I promise. I’ve got to do something.”
As he leaned in to kiss her sweet-smelling cheek again, she said, “I wish you two would just get along.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed the hand gripping his arm. “Me too.”
But as the door closed behind him, he didn’t think that would ever be possible.
33
I’m a big girl, Kylie told herself as she pushed open the door to her apartment.
Vader trotted in happily. He had no qualms about going inside, wasn’t acting nervous or suspicious. That should’ve calmed her, but she’d come to learn that while he was a good watchdog in barking at everything that moved, when he was hungry, which he was now, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about anything else. He ran off for his food dish, then looked highly insulted that it was empty.
Kylie bristled as she turned on the lights. Only a couple months ago, the Spotlight Killer had been waiting for her in the apartment, and Vader hadn’t noticed. The killer’d poisoned his food and tased her into unconsciousness before kidnapping her.
She kept trying to remind herself that lightning like that didn’t strike twice. She was fine.
It didn’t stop her from peeking under her bed, behind the shower curtain, and inside her walk-in closet, expecting a masked stranger at every turn.
But it was fine. No boogeymen to speak of. Sighing, she poured Vader the food she’d started buying in individually sea
led packs and kicked off her heels, her feet singing praise at the freedom. Standing in front of her empty fridge, she wished she had some dessert to wash down her chicken teriyaki. Ice cream. That would’ve done so nicely.
As usual, her fridge was empty. What a great diet.
Slamming the door, Kylie went to where she’d left the pile of papers. Something odd was definitely going on, and she was determined to solve the puzzle.
For Emma.
The sweet little woman who was being taken advantage of. The sweet little woman who was currently mourning her only grandchild.
And then there were the charities that were stripped of needed support so cruelly.
For one person’s greed?
Was that how the Coulter family got so rich? Were they bloodsuckers in a way she hadn’t anticipated?
Sifting through the stack, she searched for the fax, hoping to examine Jonathan Coulter’s signature more closely. Maybe she could find additional signatures on the world wide web and be able to make a comparison.
Tomorrow, she would call the other charities that had contributions ended around the same time. Even better, she’d visit them personally. For the hundredth time, she mourned the fact that she didn’t have business cards.
Brows furrowed, she sifted through the stack again. The fax was missing. She looked a third time, but it was definitely missing. Had it fallen between the seats in the car?
As she reached for her shoes, it suddenly hit her.
What if Linc had taken it? What if he’d gone to confront his father?
Heat shot through her veins. This was her case. Yes, she’d told him he could help because his father was involved, but that didn’t mean commandeering it!
Calm down, she told herself. A missing fax did not a commandeering boyfriend make. Then she snorted at the word “boyfriend,” reminding herself that they were not in a relationship.
Whatever he was to her, she needed to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Wiggling out of her skirt, she quickly threw on jeans and a pair of comfy sneakers. “How dare he!” she hissed at the walls as Vader looked on. Just like that, her benefit of the doubt speech was out the window. He’d taken it. She just knew it as sure as she knew she needed to pee.