by Karen Rose
“Mom said they hadn’t had a lot of success with the implant,” Olivia said. “Tracey didn’t get the surgery until she was ten, after Mrs. Mullen got remarried. Her new husband paid for the surgery. Tracey didn’t have good success. Not everyone does.”
Abbott smoothed his bushy mustache thoughtfully. “I’m more concerned with the identity of the male she was with just before the fire started. Focus on him for now.”
“Let’s go back out to the lake,” Olivia said, “and see if anybody saw her there.”
“What’s going on with the Feds?” Kane asked.
“I called Special Agent Crawford, but he wasn’t in the office. Tried his boss, left a message.” Abbott got up to leave, but Micki breezed in from the elevator.
“I’ve been trying your phones for an hour.”
“We ID’d the girl,” Olivia said, “and were talking to her family. What do you have?”
“I ID’d the gel.” Micki pulled up a chair and sank into it. “Sodium polyacrylate.”
“And now we wait for English,” Kane said.
“Baby-diaper goo,” Micki said, chuckling when they stared. “Commonly called super-absorbent polymer or SAP. The crystals in baby diapers that do all the absorbing.”
Olivia was starting to feel the tug of fatigue. “Why?”
“Why coat the glass globe?” Micki asked. “Turns out SAP is also a fire retardant.”
“Absorbs pee and puts out fires. Can it cure cancer?” Kane asked, tongue in cheek.
“Smart-ass,” Micki said. “I couldn’t find any record of arsonists coating a glass ball in diaper gel. The old SPOT group used ripped-up firefighter coats to keep the glass ball from becoming damaged from the heat.”
“So this isn’t SPOT,” Kane said.
“Not necessarily,” Micki said. “Ultrathin baby diapers were around in SPOT’s heyday, but not the knowledge that the gel was fire retardant.”
“Can you track that particular kind of gel?” Olivia asked.
“No,” Micki said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. This stuff is as accessible as a bag of baby diapers. Which is pretty damn accessible. There’s no way to track it, and it’s a lot easier to get and cheaper than firefighter coats.”
“Aren’t you the bundle of joy?” Abbott asked sourly and she shrugged.
“Sorry. I’m going back to the site. We’re processing the scene outside and assisting the arson guys inside.”
“We’ll canvass the lake area with Tracey’s picture,” Olivia said. “Back at five.”
Monday, September 20, 1:00 p.m.
He checked his laptop, hidden under the counter. The phone he’d given Eric allowed him to track his movements all over town. Eric was on the move, but not on the run. He’d stopped at a butcher shop. He pictured Eric leaving with some thick steaks he could use to drug Tomlinson’s guard dog.
That they hadn’t been paranoid enough to have their conversation out of range of the bugged cell phone he’d provided disappointed him. He’d thought Eric smart enough to check for a bugged phone, but Eric was too scared to be smart right now.
That Joel was dead was a bit of a jolt. He wondered if Joel had really killed himself or if they’d already started to turn on one another. He’d put his money on Albert.
So… they’re planning to kill me. He had to hand it to Albert. Hadn’t given the big boy props for that many brains. His plan would never work, of course, but it was better than what Eric had proposed. Run to France. Idiot.
But they were obeying him on the Tomlinson warehouse, so at least they were smarter than Tomlinson.
Between customers, he quickly typed in a command and brought up Eric’s bank account on his computer screen. Eric had withdrawn a thousand at the bank branch near the university. At least he was smart enough to withdraw from his normal bank and in an amount that wouldn’t raise the brows of the teller. Eric routinely withdrew a thousand, and at first he’d been curious as to what the rich boy did with all that money.
Then he’d picked up on Albert and it made sense. Albert talked a good talk about walking away from his affair with Eric, but there was no way a poor kid like Albert was walking away from money like that.
He checked the cell phone he’d activated for Barney Tomlinson. His text to Tomlinson had been simple—pay or else.
Tomlinson had been one of the few marks he’d initially misread. He’d thought Barney a smart man, but after his demands had gone ignored, had changed his mind. Obviously Barney hadn’t believed he’d follow through on his threats to expose the man’s affairs to his wife. Barney Tomlinson had amassed a modest fortune in the last few years, and according to his sources, Mrs. Tomlinson had not signed a prenup.
Tomlinson responded to his text this time. My wife found out. She’s divorcing me. What more can you do?
He smiled. Oh, a lot, he thought. I can do a helluva lot. He’d been invisible for so many years that he was used to being ignored in person. He used it to his full advantage, in fact. But to have been ignored in direct communication… Well, that was simply rude.
If Tomlinson had simply paid when he’d first asked, the man would have kept the bulk of his fortune, at least initially. Now, not only would Mrs. Tomlinson get her share in the divorce, she’d get it all. Insurance would cover the loss of the warehouse. Plus the ten million Tomlinson had in life insurance would set his wife up for life.
I personally won’t get a dime. And he was cool with that. What he would get was (a) the satisfaction of knowing Tomlinson would die, very scared indeed; (b) the satisfaction that Mrs. Tomlinson would get the last laugh; (c) a visual aid for future marks who thought they could ignore him; and (d) more really great leverage on Eric, Albert, and, last but far from least, sweet Mary. And he was very cool with that.
Monday, September 20, 2:10 p.m.
Phoebe Hunter leaned in David’s kitchen doorway, watching her son finish the tile medallion his neighbor had started. Finally admitting his fatigue, Glenn had gone back downstairs, leaving her alone with David, the child she worried about more than all of her other children put together. “Not bad,” she said.
David looked up with a smile. “Glenn did most of it.”
“He does good work,” she commented.
“That he does. I’m always trying to get him to rest, but he likes to keep busy.”
“I noticed that,” she said dryly. “He sat at the table with me for about a minute before he got up, grumbling about the big bare spot you’d left on your kitchen floor.”
“A whole minute? That’s pretty good for him. I kept telling him I hadn’t decided what I wanted for the medallion, and he kept going on about those ‘damn fancy tiles.’ He just wanted to do the design himself. Blowhard.” He said it affectionately.
“I noticed that, too. But he likes you.”
“I like him, too.” He refilled their coffee cups and they went to sit at the table. “I met him at the firehouse my first day. He’s one of the retired guys who can’t stay away.”
“He told me. He talked more about that firehouse than anything else. But he also talked about you. He told me about all the tenants and how you take care of them. How you rock those babies in 2A to sleep in the night so that Mrs. Edwards and the girls can rest. How you rescue the Gorski sisters’ cat every time it climbs up a tree. How you make sure that he’s taken care of every time he goes to chemo.”
David fidgeted in his chair. “It’s nothing, Ma. Just what anyone would do. So, what’s going on at home?”
David always changed the subject when she wanted to talk about his charity work. Well, that’s why she’d come to see him, so she wouldn’t let him squirm away this time.
“Same old, same old adventures.” But she told him anyway, all the news of his siblings and nieces and nephews, no matter how mundane. As she talked, he studied her, much like he’d studied the floor. He was her hands-on son. Always loved his gadgets, taking things apart. Putting them back together, better than new. How often had she wished he’d do th
at with his own life? “What are you looking at?” she asked. “Do I have a new wrinkle?”
He smiled and she saw a glimmer of his father in his eyes. Her husband had been a handsome devil, and their sons were, too. David, most of all. “You look exactly the same,” he said. “I was just thinking about you driving yourself all this way. That was pretty adventurous yourself, Ma.”
“You act like I’m old,” she sniffed.
“No, ma’am, just directionally challenged.”
That was a true fact, so she let it pass. “Your place is coming together nicely. I’d hoped for a little more furniture, but I can see you’ve been busy.”
“Thanks. I put in windows, wood trim, and plumbing. I’ve got to do the floors on one and two, but you can start on color swatches and carpet styles now if you want.”
She nodded, sipping her coffee. “Speaking of floors, I hear you had an adventure yourself this morning.” She said it calmly, even though her heart still hadn’t returned to normal. “But you appear to be all right.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was worry there. “Who told Glenn about it?”
“Somebody named Raz, who heard it from somebody named Gabe, who heard it from somebody named Zell.”
“I’m sure the story was nowhere near the truth by the time it got to Glenn,” he said.
“Probably,” she agreed mildly. He was hiding something. She’d always been able to tell. Of all her children, David seemed the most straightforward, but he was the most complicated. And the most unhappy.
“So,” he said casually. “What did Glenn tell you?”
“That you were searching for victims in that condo that’s been on the news all morning, and the floor collapsed under your feet. You nearly plunged four stories.” She was still shaken. “And you caught some kind of ball before it slid into the big dark hole.”
He frowned. “I was hoping it would be a lot further from the truth.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The ball is supposed to be a secret. You can’t tell anyone, okay?”
“I can keep a secret. It’s your friends I’d be worried about.”
“Yeah, I got that. I need to call the detective.” On his cell phone, he dialed a number from memory, holding his breath as he waited for an answer.
She heard a woman answer before he pressed the phone to his ear. “Sutherland.”
Dropping her eyes to her coffee, she eavesdropped shamelessly. Sutherland was a name she knew. She’d met Olivia at Mia’s wedding. Mia’s half sister seemed like a nice young woman. A little sad, but polite. And pretty. And apparently more involved with her youngest son than any of them had suspected. Paige’s voice had carried.
“Hi. It’s David Hunter. I just wanted to let you know that the news about the ball got out.” From beneath her lashes, Phoebe saw him wince. Mia’s little sister wasn’t happy.
He made a face. “Even my mother knows,” he said wryly. “She’s visiting and heard it from a retired firefighter friend of mine who got it through the grapevine. What do you want me to do?” He listened a moment, then shot a concerned look across the table and turned away. “You have an ETA?” he murmured.
Her head still down, Phoebe’s brows went up. ETA? Olivia was coming here?
Abruptly David rose and left the apartment and Phoebe wondered if he knew the door hadn’t shut behind him. “My mother is staying here,” she heard him say. “But I have a place we can meet. I’ll text you the address.”
There was silence, then his surprised voice. “You’ve identified her? Already?” More silence, then he said quietly, “Tell her father that we really tried. That I’m sorry.”
Phoebe sighed. Glenn told her that David had pulled a young girl from the fire, that she’d already been dead. David would worry over that. He’d go over it in his mind again and again, wondering if he could have done anything differently. If he could have fixed it. Saved the girl. Because that’s what David did. He fixed things. Saved people.
It was time her son saved himself, and if he couldn’t… then I will.
David disconnected, then reached for the doorknob, rolling his eyes when he found the door hadn’t closed. I need to fix that, he thought. With it cracked open, sound carried. It was reasonable to assume his mother had heard every word.
She looked up when he came back in, brows raised. “So how is Olivia?”
He swallowed his sigh. “The condo victims were homicides. She caught the case.”
“So where will you be meeting her tonight?” She lifted her hand when he started to protest. “I’m only asking because if you don’t want me here, I can stay with Evie.”
He sank into the chair next to her. “Ma.”
“I can keep secrets, son,” she said mildly. “Even the ones you haven’t told me.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. “What secrets haven’t I told you?”
She sat back, tilted her head, crossed her arms and studied him. He knew the look. It was the same one she’d used every time he’d gotten into trouble as a kid, and he knew what would come next would not be comfortable. “Well, for starters, that you fell in love with Dana Dupinsky at first sight.”
He looked away, his cheeks growing warm. “You knew all along?” he asked quietly.
“Yes. I knew you loved her, but she thought of you as a brother. I knew you worked tirelessly to support her work with battered women, along with supporting a dozen other charities in town. And I knew that it broke your heart when she married someone else.”
He closed his eyes wearily. “Who else knew about Dana?”
“The ones who figured it out for themselves. Max and Caroline.” David’s older brother and his wife. Long ago, Dana had helped Caroline escape brutal domestic abuse. For that alone, Dana would forever be part of their family. “The twins,” she added. Peter and Cathy were still “the twins,” even though they were pushing forty-five.
He opened one eye. “Elizabeth, too?” he asked.
“Yes. Your little sister picks up on more than we all give her credit for. We kept hoping you’d find someone else, that you’d be happy. But you didn’t and we didn’t know what to do, so we didn’t say or do anything. Did we do wrong?”
He shook his head. “No. There wasn’t anything you could have done, Ma.”
“I know. Makes a mother feel helpless when her kids hurt and she can’t do anything. When you told me you were moving, I wasn’t surprised. I knew you’d have to get away. I was surprised you stayed as long as you did. When you told me Minneapolis, I figured you’d picked this town to be closer to Evie and Tom.”
David’s old friend Evie had left Chicago to escape demons of her own, and his nephew, Caroline’s son Tom, was a college basketball star here at the university. “I did,” he said, and that was partly true. “Though I don’t see either of them much. They’re both so busy at school, both with their own lives. And Noah watches out for Evie now.”
His mother smiled. “Which is how it should be. Now, that you and Olivia had a biblical… thing after Mia’s wedding? That I did not know until your friend Paige confronted you.” She lifted her brows. “Because I have ears like a bat.”
He rolled his eyes, his face on fire. “Ma.”
“David,” she returned, mimicking his tone. “I have to eavesdrop. You never tell me anything. Thanks to Paige, I have a fuller picture of the puzzle that is my son.”
“I’m no puzzle. Anyway, you seem to have had it all figured out.”
She shook her head. “Not really. There’s a piece of you I’ve never been able to completely understand. I’ve admired it, loved it, bragged on it, but never understood it.”
He found himself lifting his chin defensively. “And what’s that?”
“What drives you to serve. You went from a headstrong, bullheaded, narcissistic teenager who cared for no one but himself to a man who serves more than anyone I know. Almost overnight.”
David controlled his flinch, knowing she was watching him. God help me if you ever do understand, he though
t as the pictures from the past flooded his mind. Broken bodies. And so much blood. It had been eighteen years and his throat still closed when he thought of Megan, huddled over her brother’s small body, protecting him with her last breath.
Because he’d been a headstrong, bullheaded narcissistic fool who’d cared for no one but himself. Their blood was on his hands.
He realized he was staring at his hands and looked up. His mother watched him with worried eyes. He forced a smile. “No real mystery. Dad died, and you and Max needed help with his therapy to walk again.” The car accident that had killed his father and paralyzed his brother had been another defining moment in his life. Helping his brother had become his salvation, the way to claw out of the abyss into which he’d fallen. After Megan. After that, service had become… necessary. “I had to grow up.”
“And you did,” she said, her gaze piercing as she studied him. “I know how much Max appreciates it. You dropped out of college after only one semester, gave up your own sports dream to get him through physical therapy, get him back on his feet again.”
He wanted to wince at the lie she’d always taken as truth, but didn’t. He’d already dropped out of college before his father’s accident, but his mother didn’t know that. He’d been failing, unable to concentrate on his studies. Unable to sleep. Unable to make the pictures in his mind go away. Nursing his brother back to health all those years ago had been the excuse he’d needed to keep his family from finding out what a failure he really was.
“He needed me,” David managed. His throat was raw, his chest hurt. He’d never understood the people who became comfortable with a lie. Eighteen years and it still tore him up inside.
“Yes.” His mother still watched him and he fought the urge to squirm. “But that still doesn’t explain why you picked women’s shelters and charities. Even before Dana’s shelter, that’s how you spent your time. Always working. Always helping.”
“It’s a good cause.”
“Yes. When it’s a cause. But for you, it’s more than that.” She sighed. “David, I was so devastated when your father died, events that happened around that time seemed to disappear. But the years passed and it began to occur to me that your focus on charity wasn’t a passing fancy or even a healthy hobby. It was your life, at the exclusion of everything else adults normally seek. No girlfriends, nobody special. I looked back, tried to figure out when it started. I started thinking about that year. There was a tragedy in the neighborhood the spring before your dad died.”