Monster In The Closet (The Baltimore Series Book 5)

by Karen Rose

  Her smile was wry. ‘No. Growing up on a cattle ranch, that would have been a little hypocritical, don’t you think? I’m going to my room to lie down for a while. Like you said, I had a shock today. I think it just caught up with me. I’ll be down for dinner.’

  Baltimore, Maryland,

  Saturday 22 August, 7.15 P.M.

  Gage took a moment to check his reflection in the glass door of the very expensive restaurant that Cesar Tavilla had picked for their first meeting. He looked good. Really, really good. Good enough to draw admiring glances from many of the women sitting at Tavilla’s table. That was just one of the many things Gage admired about Tavilla. He surrounded himself with stunningly beautiful women.

  It had been a while since Gage had had a stunningly beautiful woman. They’d been in ample supply when he’d first left Baltimore for the condo he’d kept in Miami, set up under layers of corporations so that it could never be traced to him. He’d rewarded himself with the condo after his first big bonus check, shortly after making junior partner at his old law firm. He’d used it to get away whenever he needed a break – his secret retreat.

  Valerie had never even been suspicious. She’d been too busy banging lovers while he’d been gone. That he’d also banged lovers was immaterial. He’d worked hard, so he’d played hard. He’d earned the money and it was nobody else’s business how he spent it. Valerie’s only job had been to keep his household running smoothly and to raise his children.

  Which had ended so well, he thought bitterly.

  But he wasn’t going to think about that now, because his new boss was waiting for him at his table, a woman on either side of him and one in his lap. Tavilla nudged them all away, motioning Gage to sit in one of the vacated seats.

  ‘Mr Jarvis,’ he said, flashing a very white smile. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

  ‘Likewise, Señor.’ Gage took the seat and lifted the glass of wine that a waiter immediately set at his elbow. ‘I look forward to getting back to work.’

  One side of Tavilla’s mouth curved. ‘I imagine you do. How is your family, Mr Jarvis?’

  Gage blinked. ‘My family?’

  ‘I read the newspaper story about your wife. That she was murdered in her home. It is a senseless tragedy.’

  ‘It is.’ For some reason Gage hadn’t expected Tavilla to know his business. I should have. The man wouldn’t have become so successful if he hadn’t been thorough and very careful. Gage wouldn’t be making that mistake again. Dropping his gaze to the white tablecloth, he made himself the picture of despair. ‘Our children have been devastated, as you can only imagine.’

  ‘They are quite young?’

  ‘Yes. Eleven and five. They’re in counseling, but . . .’ He looked up and met his employer’s eyes squarely. ‘I’m doing my best to be there for them.’

  ‘As a father should,’ Tavilla agreed with a sage nod. A server approached, his tray laden with food, and Gage’s stomach growled, making Tavilla chuckle. ‘I took the liberty of ordering for you, Mr Jarvis. The house specialty.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Gage said, a little annoyed and trying to decide if he wanted to show it. He decided he did, and smiled at Tavilla. ‘I’m sure it’s wonderful. But in the future, I’d really like to choose my own meal.’ It was all about setting expectations up front. He was not one of Tavilla’s fawning lackeys. He was the man’s attorney and needed to be free to speak his mind.

  Tavilla looked amused. ‘Of course. My apologies.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Gage took a few bites of the large steak that had been set in front of him, then dabbed at the corner of his mouth. It really was delicious. ‘I’d like to know a bit about the cases I’ll be taking on when I start on Monday.’

  ‘The briefs will be waiting on your desk,’ Tavilla said smoothly, and motioned to the server to refill their wine glasses. ‘So, the man suspected of killing your wife was found dead this morning.’

  Gage had just swallowed a mouthful of wine and had to breathe through his nose to keep from choking. Tavilla had timed that perfectly. Gage cleared his throat. ‘Yes, he was. The police informed me.’

  ‘The word is that the young hoodlum overdosed and that the dealer who sold him the poison was killed by a policeman.’

  Sonofafuckingbitch. Gage lifted his shoulders in a very slight shrug. ‘I was told that an officer and a dealer were also killed.’ Because as the grieving widower, he’d be informed by the police. ‘But I didn’t realize who’d killed whom. The police keep some of the facts close to the vest.’

  ‘That they do,’ Tavilla said levelly. ‘It is a nice tidy resolution to your wife’s murder.’

  Gage fought the urge to swallow nervously, drawing on his growing irritation. He’d faced down scarier assholes in court. Bring it on. He didn’t blink. ‘It is.’

  ‘Just in time for your first day with me.’

  Gage shrugged again. ‘I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.’

  Tavilla smiled tightly, his amusement completely vanished. ‘Yes, well, I hope your gift horse is not a Trojan trap. I’d hate for there to be any . . . repercussions once you’ve officially entered my employ.’

  ‘There won’t be,’ Gage said, quietly but firmly.

  ‘Good.’ Tavilla nodded. ‘See that there are not. Now please eat, Mr Jarvis.’

  Gage complied, even though his gut was churning anew.

  What if the girl actually saw something? What if she tells? He’d have no choice but to run, just as Denny had recommended. It was clear Tavilla wouldn’t tolerate any . . . complications. And he was pretty certain his new boss favored quick and decisive solutions when they arose.

  I’m not going to run. Because once he did, he’d never be able to rest. He’d always be looking over his shoulder. If the girl had seen anything, she’d have to go.

  That Denny would die had been a given from the moment he’d threatened to tell. Gage had planned to make it happen in a few months, when it could appear to be an unfortunate accident. If Jazzie had witnessed anything . . . well, accidents happened every day.

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Saturday 22 August, 7.35 P.M.

  Clay couldn’t remember eating a meal as tense as this one had been. The drive from Maggie’s farmhouse to the pizzeria had been glacially silent, his gut clenching every time Stevie worried her lower lip – something she did when she wanted to cry but refused to allow herself to do so.

  He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be apologizing for. He’d known Stevie would be hurt when she found out that Cordy still had nightmares, but he thought he’d have a little more time to grease the skids between Cordy and her mom, so that his little girl could tell her mama all by herself. That would have been best.

  Still, Stevie wouldn’t have taken it so personally had it not been accompanied by Cordelia’s reproof. The atmosphere in Maggie’s kitchen had been so incredibly strained already.

  Because of Sienna. Sienna. My baby. Clay’s throat closed. He’d found his daughter. Finally. He’d held her in his arms and touched her face and she hadn’t run away screaming. She’d come on her own. To meet me. And she’d done it so stealthily that neither he nor Joseph Carter had suspected she was right under their noses. Pride tingled in his chest.

  But it was a short-lived tingle, because so much remained unsettled. She’d changed her name. She lived three thousand miles away. She already had a man she called Dad.

  Who isn’t me. Pain gripped his heart, squeezing brutally. She loves him. Not me. Because they’d never been given a chance. They had a chance now – if she didn’t disappear again.

  I should be camped out at Maggie’s making sure Sienna doesn’t bolt. He’d found his daughter after all these years, only to walk away and leave her alone with Ford Elkhart. Just for the evening, to allow her to regroup. And Ford was
an honorable young man. If he said he’d make sure Sienna remained until morning, she’d be there.

  Clay hoped Sienna’s dinner with Ford and Maggie was less stressful than this one had been. He and Stevie had basically chewed and swallowed, while Cordelia pushed her food around on her plate, her expression sullen.

  Sitting in Maggie’s kitchen, he’d really thought that the lightening of the mood between Stevie and Cordelia there at the end had meant they were all okay, but he guessed he had a lot to learn about women. Apparently both mother and daughter had been pretending.

  Nobody was pretending anymore. They were all legitimately miserable.

  ‘You need to eat, baby,’ Stevie murmured to Cordelia, the first words any of them had spoken since giving the server their orders forty minutes before.

  Cordelia’s fingers tightened on her fork. Her chin jerked up and her eyes flashed. ‘I’m not a baby and I’m not hungry.’ She paused for a heartbeat. ‘Ma’am,’ she added crisply.

  Stevie winced and Clay felt like shit. ‘Got it,’ Stevie said softly.

  Clay opened his mouth to say something, but both Stevie and Cordelia gave him the stink eye. He closed his mouth, pushed his half-eaten dinner away, and waved the server over. ‘We’ll need boxes to take this home,’ he said when the young woman approached with understandable caution. As a family unit, they were a simmering pot, ready to boil over.

  He rubbed his palms over his face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured to Stevie.

  ‘I know,’ she said quietly.

  ‘I never thought . . .’ He let the words trail away. Sienna had been the spark that ignited this situation, but the kindling had been set up long ago. As soon as he’d agreed to keep Cordelia’s secret. ‘Forgive me,’ he said in a whisper barely audible. ‘I’m new at this parent stuff.’

  Stevie’s sad smile cracked his heart in two. ‘I’m not, so let me warn you that it doesn’t get any easier.’

  He squeezed her thigh under the table. ‘Let’s go home.’

  Baltimore, Maryland,

  Saturday 22 August, 7.40 P.M.

  Mmmm. Mama’s making cookies. I hope they’re chocolate chip. Jasmine’s eyelids fluttered open as the familiar aroma tickled her nose. Mama’s making—

  No. Mama wasn’t making cookies, because Mama wasn’t here anymore. Because she’s dead. Say it, Jasmine. Say. It.

  Fine, she snarled to herself. She’s dead, all right? She. Is. Dead. She ripped off the blanket and sat on the edge of her bed, so damn mad. But there wasn’t anybody to blame.

  Nobody but the man who’d actually killed her mama, and Jasmine couldn’t blame him. Not out loud, anyway. Grandma won’t believe me. She’ll tell the police I was lying.

  Because Grandma had done it before, swearing to the police that her son wasn’t capable of hitting anyone. But Jasmine knew the truth even though she’d been only eight then. Mama had gone to bed early that night with an icepack on her face, because it had turned all black and blue. And Mama had been crying so hard that Jasmine had gotten scared and called Aunt Lilah.

  Aunt Lilah had come right over and she’d called the police, who took pictures of Mama’s poor face. Mama told the police that her husband had hit her and that she’d made him leave.

  Jasmine had hoped it would be okay then. Her daddy had become really scary and she was glad he wasn’t coming back. But Aunt Lilah had to go to work the next day and that was when Grandma had come to their house, screaming so loud that Janie had started crying and Jasmine had hidden behind her wingback chair. The same one she’d hidden behind a month ago, though it was in their old house back then.

  Grandma called Mama a liar and said that she’d told the police that, too. She said that Mama had ruined Daddy’s life by accusing him of hitting her – that he’d get disbarred and lose his job. Then Grandma had gotten so quiet that Jasmine almost didn’t hear her call Mama a dirty whore. She said she knew that Mama had a boyfriend who came over when Jasmine was at school and Janie was napping. Grandma swore that if Mama didn’t call the police back and say that she’d lied about who hit her, she’d tell Jasmine’s father and there would be no alimony.

  That was the first that Jasmine had heard about her parents getting divorced, and she’d been so glad. She’d wanted to jump out from behind the chair and yell at her grandma for accusing her mama of cheating, because even though Jasmine was only eight, she knew what cheating was. She kept thinking that her mama would tell Grandma to shut up, that it wasn’t true. But Mama never denied it. Not even when Aunt Lilah came back later that night, as mad as Grandma had been, because Mama had called the police and taken it all back.

  In bed by then, Jasmine had snuck downstairs and listened while Mama calmly told Aunt Lilah that she’d realized there would be no alimony if her father was convicted of assault, because he’d have no money to give her if he lost his job. She didn’t mention Grandma’s visit or her threat. She didn’t mention the secret boyfriend. Not once.

  And that was when Jasmine knew it was true, that her mama had cheated. She also knew she couldn’t let on that she knew. They needed that alimony because Mama didn’t have a good education like Aunt Lilah did. Mama wouldn’t get a good job and they’d be poor.

  Aunt Lilah had just sighed and told Mama that everything would be all right. That she’d keep quiet too, because paying alimony would probably hurt her father more in the long run.

  The divorce never ended up happening, because her father quit his job and ran away. There was no money at all. Mama worked so hard to keep the house, but in the end they’d had to give it back to the bank, and they’d moved to the apartment.

  The apartment where her mama had ended up dead.

  Mama and Grandma didn’t talk for a long time after that day Jasmine had hidden behind the chair. Not until Mama moved them to the apartment. Jasmine remembered being asleep in her bed, waking up to hear Grandma’s voice. Wondering why, she’d snuck out of bed to listen.

  Grandma had lost her house too, to pay for her father’s rehab. He was getting better, Grandma had been sure of it, and he deserved another chance to rebuild his life after Jasmine’s mama had ruined it by cheating. But now Grandma had no place to live. Mama had said no – until Grandma reminded her that she could still tell about Mama’s secret boyfriend. And that Mama had been drinking.

  Grandma said she was worried that their mama wasn’t taking care of them right, that Grandma could take care of them better. That had made Jasmine so mad that she’d almost burst into the room yelling, because Mama was taking care of them – with Jasmine’s help. They didn’t need Grandma butting in where she wasn’t wanted. But Grandma’s next threat had Jasmine stunned and silenced.

  Grandma had threatened to report Mama to the child protection people. She threatened to sue for custody – to take them away from their mother forever.

  Mama had been stunned too – and frightened. The next thing Jasmine knew, Grandma had moved in, taking Mama’s room and making Mama sleep on the sofa. Jasmine hadn’t said a word, because she hadn’t wanted her mama to be even sadder. She’d obeyed her grandma, even though she hated the old woman so much.

  She’d been ‘Mama’s good girl’, but now Mama was dead. The police had come and asked all of them – Grandma, Lilah and Jasmine herself – about her father, could he have done it? Lilah had said yes, and Jasmine had been so relieved – she hadn’t had to say what she’d seen!

  But she’d been shocked once again when Grandma told her that her father couldn’t have done it, because he was in Texas. Detective Fitzpatrick had told Grandma so. Still, Jasmine had hoped he’d come back and say it wasn’t true. But he hadn’t. He’d believed the alibi, which meant he was either stupid or lazy, only wanting to make his job easier. It couldn’t be because the alibi was true, because Jasmine knew that it wasn’t.

  The scary thing was, Jasmine knew that her grandma really di
d believe her son was in Texas. She believed he hadn’t beaten his wife to death, just like she’d believed he hadn’t hit Mama when Jasmine was eight. Or that he wasn’t really an addict, even though he’d flunked out of rehab three times and made her lose her house. That somehow he’d change.

  Grandma wasn’t going to believe her. Ever. But it didn’t matter, because once Jasmine told anyone, he’d find out. And unless the police caught him super-fast, he’d come back.

  Jasmine wasn’t willing to trust the police to catch him at all, much less super-fast.

  But I can’t go on like this, watching Janie’s every move, watching every word that comes out of her mouth. It was exhausting, for one. But more importantly, school was starting soon and she and Janie didn’t even go to the same school. If I’m not there to watch her, Janie could tell anyone that Aunt Lilah found me behind the chair.

  Reaching under her pillow, Jasmine pulled out Miss Taylor’s card. Maybe she’d send her an email later tonight when Grandma had gone to sleep. There has to be a way out of this.

  Her stomach picked that moment to growl, and Jasmine remembered that she’d missed dinner. And the cookies smelled really good.

  She made her way to the kitchen, where Grandma stood at the sink washing dishes while Janie and Aunt Lilah spooned cookie dough onto a baking sheet.

  ‘Jazzie. I’m glad you’re awake.’ Aunt Lilah was smiling, and that was good to see. Lilah hadn’t had much to smile about lately either. We’re a lot of work, Janie and me. Plus Lilah didn’t really like Grandma either, but she hadn’t been willing to throw an old woman out with no home to go to. The old bat could have moved in with Uncle Denny and Aunt Missy, but Missy didn’t like Grandma either.

  And Grandma didn’t like Denny. So we’re stuck with the old bitch.

  ‘Do you want some dinner?’ Grandma asked, and Jasmine nodded. ‘Well then, sit down and I’ll warm up your plate as soon as I’m done with the dishes.’