“Can you pull yourself away from—” he nudged Matteo’s book up so he could read the title, “—Darkest Secret.”
“Don’t knock it.” Matteo dog-eared his spot. “Are we going in?”
“There’s got to be something inside Dylan’s apartment that’ll shed some light on what’s going on.”
Instead of leaving the book on the table, Matteo tucked it into the back of his jeans.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Told you, your timing sucks.”
They took the stairs two at a time until they reached the third floor. Deke led the way to apartment 307 and bent to pick the lock. The mechanism was so old that he managed the feat in less than five seconds.
He half expected to be hit by a wave of rotting food and poor plumbing. But all that wafted through the opening was stale air. A scent normally associated with homes that have been abandoned for weeks instead of days.
“You take the kitchen,” he said. “I’ll start in the bedroom.”
At the entrance to his brother’s bedroom, he paused to scan the square space. No clothes littered the floor, and smooth sheets graced the bed. He opened the closet and found a half dozen T-shirts, two pair of jeans, a jacket, and a set of running shoes. A scarce amount of clothes for a thirty-year-old.
He pulled down a shoebox and found it full of old baseball cards, some in protective sleeves, most tossed around haphazardly. He pushed on the walls and stomped on the floor.
Finding nothing, he strolled the room, looking for forgotten slips of paper, receipts, anything unusual or out-of-place. He scoured the area. Nothing.
“Come on, Dylan. Talk to me.”
Moving on to the bathroom, he found signs of the brother he knew. Toothpaste tube left open on the sink, toilet paper roll empty, towels on the floor… Deke gave the bathroom the same thorough search.
Still nothing.
He stood on the threshold, peering between the pristine bedroom and sloppy bathroom. Something besides stale air made his nose twitch with distaste.
He stomped his way into the front room, where he found Matteo methodically searching. The same neat cleanliness existed here.
“Does this place seem oddly tidy for a bachelor, especially one who’d just been caught hovering over a dead woman?” Matteo asked. “Items in the kitchen cabinets are in perfect alignment and even though the fridge is near empty it’s cleaner than a surgeon’s hands.”
“The bathroom’s the only place that looks lived in.”
“Might be worth taking a second glance.”
He retraced his footsteps. Once again, he paused in the doorway and scanned the ten-by-six space. An old memory surfaced. His attention sliced to the shower. He opened the glass door and flipped on the hot water.
“What are doing?” Matteo asked.
“Years ago, when we were kids—” he closed the door and waited, “—my brother and I used to communicate through secret messages.”
“In the bathroom?”
“Where else?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a piece of paper hidden in the closet?”
“Not as much fun.”
Steam filled the shower, coating the glass enclosure. Letters began to emerge.
“I’ll be damned,” Matteo said. “How’d he do that?”
“Soap.”
“You shittin’ me?”
“Give it a try, sometime.”
Curves and straight lines formed into three words. “Gold Star. Lean-to.”
“Gold Star. Coincidental?”
“Could be, but I doubt it. This has to be linked to the Gold Star reference we found at the Bamford raid.”
“An odd pairing of words. Any idea of what Dylan’s trying to tell us?”
“No clue. But Dylan went through a great deal of trouble to make sure I found it.”
“He knew you’d come?
“Despite our current estrangement, Dylan and I were close once.” He tapped speed dial number three on his phone and clicked on the speaker.
“Hit me, boss,” Jax said.
“Do you have anything on Gold Star yet?”
“Not yet—unless you want to hear about the history of the Chinese flag. Got something for me?”
“Nothing that will aid your search, I don’t think. My brother left those two words for me to find.”
“Ooh, a failure-ridden mysterious code. My favorite.” Furious clicking echoed in the background. “Get anywhere with the girlfriend?”
Deke didn’t want to go through that nightmare over the phone. “Yes and no. Let’s focus on Gold Star right now.”
“Kicked your ass, didn’t she?” Jax chuckled. “Or maybe she wanted to do something else with your ass.”
“Focus, Jax.”
Feet shuffled behind him, and he reached for his gun.
Evie pressed into the doorframe, her startled gaze on his weapon.
“Jesus, Evie.” He slid his Glock back into its holster. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Evie?” Jax asked. “Who’s Evie?”
With a wary eye on Matteo, she straightened, though kept her distance. “What’s going on, Deke?”
“Jax,” he said, “call me back when you have something.”
“Don’t hang up now, this sounds interesting—”
He disconnected before Jax said anything more incriminating. How much had Evie heard of their conversation? Could he still salvage his cover?
“What girlfriend, Deke?” she asked.
Shhhit. A thousand excuses drove through his mind, with lightning speed. How could he give her enough of the truth and still protect the team? Though his brother’s predicament had nothing to do with the Bamford case, he couldn’t easily explain away Matteo and Jax or him breaking into Dylan’s apartment.
His silence must have confirmed the heartbreak she’d feared. Without another word, Evie strode away. She didn’t run or break into “How could you?” or curse him to hell.
She simply walked away.
Dread like nothing he’d experienced before kept him rooted in place.
An oarless boat drifting out to sea.
A hollow shell blistering in the sunlight.
A damn fool watching someone special walk out of his life.
18
Evie kept her gaze straight ahead, hardly noticing the stairs she descended or the chipped wall paint she passed. The only thing that registered in her paralyzed mind was the absence of racing footsteps from behind.
Deke had allowed her to leave. No explanation or entreaties for her to understand. Just blaring silence and acceptance.
Why had she ignored the warning signs? Within hours of Deke joining the MedTour, something with him had seemed off. No, his unusual behavior went farther back than that—all the way to the moment he’d disappeared after their first kiss a year ago.
Why had he joined the tour?
Though he’d been interested in their patients, spending several minutes with each one, learning about their families and hobbies, she no longer believed he was writing an article. His attention hadn’t been on the program or Lisa or her. His attention had been on the patients.
Why?
Why would a conservation writer question the local communities about such mundane subjects like the best hunting spots or recommended taxidermists or favorite hobbies or unusual animal sightings or the make of vehicle they drove? Any questions he’d asked about the actual tour seemed an afterthought.
Anger seared her chest. How dare he use the Med Mobile to disguise an ulterior motive. She and Lisa had trusted him. How had he repaid that trust? By lying to them.
A volatile mix of hurt, fury, disappointment, and shame had her pivoting on her heel and marching back up the stairs. She would get her answers, one way or another.
At the second floor landing, she swung around to climb the next flight and plowed into Deke.
“Whoa!” He grasped her shoulder, halting her momentum and preventing her from doing serious d
amage.
Without thinking, her hands arrowed between them, then her forearm slammed against his, breaking his hold. The violence in her move had him holding up his hands, a show of no harm meant.
“Deke, did you use me—the MedTour?”
His arms lowered to his sides but his steady gaze latched onto hers. In their depths, she saw regret before resolution hardened their edges.
“Did you?” she pressed. “Did you join the tour for reasons other than writing an article about our program?”
“Yes.”
Her entire body contracted at his admission. “Why?”
A door above them closed, rocking the moment.
“Come with me,” he said. “Please.”
He didn’t grab her arm and force her down the stairs like some guys would have. No, Deke Conrad descended, trusting she would follow.
And she did. No way was she going to let him ditch her before clarifying his mind-blowing answer. She couldn’t even be mad at him anymore—not after such a blatant confirmation of her fears.
When they reached the sidewalk, he held out a hand to her. Her fingers slipped into the V of his, without hesitation. She should have made him work harder for her acquiescence, dammit.
They walked several blocks before ducking into a coffee shop.
“How can I help you?” a chipper barista asked.
“Two coffees. Black.”
“I’d prefer tea,” she said.
He collected their drinks and led her to a small table at the back of the shop. Like a cop, he sat with his back to the wall and seemed to keep one eye on her and one eye on the door.
“Enough cloak and dagger crap,” she said, covering a bud of anxiety with a bit of bluster. “Tell me what you were doing in that apartment.”
“Searching for anything that would lead me to my brother.”
Again, he answered her question, throwing her off.
“Why do you have a gun?”
“For protection.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Have you been carrying a gun while around the patients?”
Silence.
“What were you doing in the bathroom?”
“While growing up, my brother and I would write soapy messages on the shower glass to each other.”
“Why?”
His brows folded together. “To defy our father, I suppose.”
“I thought your relationship with your dad was fine until after college.”
“The estrangement is new. My father’s tyranny has existed for a lifetime.”
“I’m sorry.”
A glimpse of the old Deke crept along the edge of his mouth when he attempted a smile. “It’s not your fault he’s a prick.”
She rotated her cup in circles, over and over and over again. “You should’ve told me about your girlfriend. I would never have—” she rolled her hand between them, unable to form the words, “—had I known.” Round and round and round. “It all sort of makes sense now.”
“What does?”
The cup turned so fast that the tea sloshed over the rim. He pressed his fingers to the back of her hand. The swirling stopped.
“What makes sense?”
“You go off and do whatever it is that you do, keeping a girlfriend at home and dreamy-eyed, willing me as a sidedish.” She unlocked the muscles in her neck so she could meet his gaze. “Well, I’m not into sharing, Deke Conrad.”
“You’ve got it wrong.”
She stared at him for several seconds, waiting for more. “How? How do I have it wrong?”
His lips firmed.
“That’s all you’re gonna say?”
Something hard and unyielding locked onto his features.
If it had been any other day, she would’ve attempted to squeeze the information out of him. But today, her emotions rode too close to the surface, and she’d be damned if she’d allow herself to cry in front of him.
She was starting to see a pattern, though. When he felt comfortable answering her questions, he did. But he seemed opposed to out-and-out lying to her. Other times, she seemed to be on the right track, yet he refused to confirm it.
Something important, a revelation, an understanding, stood just out of her reach. She could sense it, almost feel it opening up to her.
Or maybe she was making crap up to soothe the sting of being played. Exhaustion melted into her bones and darkened her thoughts.
“I guess it doesn’t m-matter.” She cleared the lump from her throat. “I know enough—about everything.” She stood. “I won’t speak of your betrayal to Lisa. I won’t break her heart, too.”
The stupid little girl that lurked in her chest waited two heartbeats for him to stop her. To ask her to sit back down so he could divulge all his secrets.
But he did none of those things. His secrets remained behind a vault of good looks and steely resolve.
For the second time in an hour, she walked away from Deke Conrad. This time he didn’t follow.
19
Smack!
“What were you thinking?” Caleb stood over his quivering brother. Rage knifed through his veins, urging him to strike again and again and again.
“I did what you asked,” Eli said, rubbing his cheek.
“Far from it, brother. I ordered you to redirect attention away from us—not drive it right up to our door.”
“All the focus will be on keeping Dylan out of prison.”
“How do you expect that feat to be accomplished?”
“That’s the whole point. Nothing will stop Dylan’s imprisonment.”
Caleb released his fists and forced the tension from his back. “Go on.”
“I selected Gracie as my target because there’s a direct link between her and Dylan. Tina Armstrong.”
Fire blurred Caleb’s vision. “Armstrong? Your dealer?!”
Eli scrambled away. “I invited Tina to dinner in the guise of asking about her sister. The one diagnosed with leukemia. Despite her wicked ways, she loves her sister.” His gaze turned inward. “I think that’s why she deals drugs. To pay for her sister’s treatment.”
“Spare me your dealer’s domestic issues. What’s Dylan’s link to the Armstrong woman?”
“They used to be lovers as well as business associates.”
What was it about some women that made men lose all common sense? Caleb had never experienced such lust for the opposite sex. Women were tools. Why didn’t other men see this? God placed them on earth to bear children, look after the household, and make their husband’s lives comfortable.
If a man was lucky, like Caleb, he’d develop an affection for his wife. But his parents were a perfect example that love wasn’t a requirement of a successful marriage.
“If Deke’s the threat Daddy believes him to be, he’ll eventually sniff out the connection and believe his brother was either dealing or using.”
“And the link between the woman you murdered and Tina Armstrong?”
“They’re childhood friends.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What happens when Deke connects Gracie to Tina to you?”
“Won’t happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“For one thing, my association with Tina was discreet. And when I texted Gracie to set up the meeting with Dylan, I used Tina’s phone.”
Caleb lifted a brow.
“Everyone leaves their phone unattended for a few minutes, especially when they use the ladies room.”
“Did you use a credit card at the restaurant?”
“No, and I met her at a dive outside of town where no one knows either one of us.”
Respect for his brother’s cunning replaced Caleb’s rage. Although not a foolproof plan, his brother had meticulously worked through the details.
“Well done, Eli.” He clasped his brother’s shoulder. “Though next time I ask a favor, try to find a less public approach.�
��
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Daddy mustn’t be disappointed.”
Eli dug his keys out of his pocket, preparing to leave. “I’ve got the Conrad situation under control.”
“I hope so. Neither of us will like Daddy’s response if you fail.”
At the door, Eli half turned, peering at him out of the corner of his eye. “Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t ever hit me again.”
20
Dylan Conrad crouched near the storage shed’s ajar door, listening to the Harwood brothers’ conversation. His heart fired in his chest like a rocket at takeoff.
He’d wondered many times over the past few weeks to what depths the Harwoods would fall in order to protect their empire.
Now he knew.
Murder.
He had walked straight into their trap. Deke’s shocked features pulsed in his mind. Would his brother believe him capable of slitting a woman’s throat? Would he remember the heart of the brother he’d left behind? Would Deke believe Deputy Dickhead’s assertion that he was buying drugs through Gracie? Gracie?
Just thinking her name tore at his guts. She’d only been a month away from getting her associate’s degree in accounting. He didn’t know what she’d been looking forward to more—graduating or enrolling at the university. She’d wanted to be the first in her family to get a bachelor’s degree.
Anyone who knew her would never accuse her of getting involved with drugs. She’d seen firsthand how they’d ruined her father’s and brother’s lives. Though she didn’t like Tina’s side job, she understood the desperation that compelled her best friend’s actions.
Problem was Deke hadn’t been around to know any of this, and he’d left thinking his entire family had turned their backs on him. Why would he give any of them the benefit of the doubt? Especially Dylan, who had been the loudest in his accusations. Not because he’d believed in any of his father’s Big Brother paranoia, but because he hadn’t wanted Deke to go. To leave him behind—in this life-sucking hellhole.
Sheesus, what a shit mess.
Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6) Page 12