Whatever It Takes 2

by Christy Reece

  At that thought, she pulled in every reserve she had left. No. Dammit. No. She would not give in. She would not allow this to happen. These men were here to fix her sister. There was no other choice. Alice would live. Dammit, she would live.

  The medical jargon was still a mile high over her head, but it appeared the vote, four to one, was to wait twenty-four hours to see if Alice’s vital signs improved. Whether they did or didn’t, they would then operate and remove the bullet fragment hovering so close to her sister’s heart.

  Now that it was settled, she would go back to Alice’s room. When her sister woke, she would tell her the good news. That she would have the surgery and that it would be a success. Kathleen had to make Alice understand that she had to fight, had to hold on. Alice wasn’t the most resilient person, but in this she had no choice. She would have to fight for all she was worth.

  On decidedly shaky legs, Kathleen stood and gave a sweeping glance to the doctors still sitting at the table. “Thank you for allowing me to listen in. I know you all want what’s best for Alice. I’ll just—”

  The loud speaker buzzed, and then a voice announced, “Code blue. Code blue. All available medical staff. Report to Room 3242.”

  Alice!

  Chapter Six

  Kathleen willed her legs to move, one step and then another. Up the stairs to her apartment. She’d shut off her emotions over the last few days. Had barely slept or eaten. Holding on by a thread, just waiting until she could finally let go. The second she entered her apartment, she was planning a meltdown of epic proportions.

  The key slid into the door of her apartment, she twisted the knob, and felt the emotions swell.

  “Miss Callahan?”

  She jerked around. Exhaustion and emotional devastation had slowed her instincts. A man stood in the shadows. He was dressed in black, and she could see nothing of his features other than he was tall, with a muscular physique. If he was here to attack her, he would win. She was way too tired to give a damn. And if he was here to rob her, he was in for a major letdown. She had nothing worth stealing…nothing left, not anymore.

  Her fuzzy brain registered that he’d called her Miss Callahan. People weren’t generally that polite right before they attacked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to talk to you about your sister.”

  Another damn reporter. The burn of hatred was strong and true, singeing and cauterizing the bleed of grief. “Haven’t you bottom-feeding reporters had enough fun? Haven’t you tortured me enough? What more do you want?”

  “I’m not a reporter, Miss Callahan. I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me how?” Her voice went thick as she added, “I just buried my sister. If you’d wanted to help, you’ve got piss-poor timing.”

  “I know. I’m very sorry. I—” He broke off when voices came from the stairwell. Her neighbors were coming home. “Look. May I come in?”

  “No, you may not. I have no idea who you are or what you want.”

  He moved closer, stood in the light. Her breath hitched as she immediately recognized his famous face. This man was on the news more times in one week than Kathleen had been in a lifetime. But what was he doing here?

  “My name is Grey Justice, and I’d like to help you find the person who framed your sister.”

  Grey followed Kathleen Callahan into her home. Though how anyone could call this place home would be laughable if it weren’t so damn sad. The apartment was one small room with a couch, a small dresser, and a rollaway bed standing upright in the corner. Grey imagined she had to move the furniture into the corner when she was ready to go to sleep, as there wasn’t enough room for the bed otherwise.

  A small alcove showed an ancient microwave, hot plate, and minifridge. The other side of the room had a toilet, along with a drain in the floor and a hose hanging from the wall above it. Apparently some idiot’s idea of a shower.

  A beaten-up table with one lone chair sat in the middle of the room. Somehow, that seemed the saddest and most telling piece in the whole place. Kathleen Callahan was alone. Had been for a long time.

  “Before we go any further, you need to know that I won’t hesitate to defend myself.”

  Grey wasn’t surprised she was holding a gun on him. And he knew her words were true. He knew quite a lot about Kathleen Callahan. What he knew, he liked.

  The Callahan sisters’ upbringing had been both unorthodox and somewhat difficult. Both women had no doubt been affected by their childhood, but they’d gone about dealing with it in very different ways.

  Kathleen had used the skills she’d learned as a child, acquired others as an adult, and had made herself into a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond her control, she’d had a reversal of fortune.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Kathleen. I’m here to help.”

  She studied him for several more seconds, lowered the gun to her side, and then nodded toward the faded brown faux leather couch against the wall. Duct tape and prayer were the only things that seemed to be holding it together.

  Grey eased onto the couch, hoping his weight wouldn’t tear a new hole in the upholstery. Regret wasn’t a normal part of his personality, but as he took in Kathleen’s grief-exhausted face, he felt the sting of it. He should have seen to her sooner. After Eli had given him the information on both Kathleen and Alice, Grey had put some of his best researchers on the case. But not in time to prove Alice’s innocence. Or save her life. He sure as hell never anticipated that anyone would try to kill the young woman, especially in the middle of a damn courtroom.

  “Tell me why you’re here. You said you believe my sister was innocent?”

  Innocent? He wasn’t sure of that. However, he did believe she’d been framed for murder. Grey explained as best he could. “Your sister’s case hit my radar a week or so ago. I apologize that it didn’t catch my attention until it was too late to give you the assistance you needed.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you even care?”

  Grey had no intention of telling her that she had attracted the attention of the wealthy Eli Slater. It wasn’t his place, nor his business. That was for Eli to deal with when the time was right.

  “I have a victims’ advocacy foundation.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of it. I’m just surprised you seek victims out. For some reason, I thought they came to you.”

  “They usually do, but sometimes a case catches my attention. Your sister’s trial caught mine.”

  “So do you have some kind of information or proof? Do you know who killed Braden? Do you know anything about the woman who murdered my sister? How can you help?”

  The questions were understandable, but as always, Grey walked a fine line when it came to offering a certain kind of assistance. His victims’ advocacy group assisted hundreds of people each year, all above board, with no secrets, no fine skirting of the law. Few people were aware that there was another side to Grey’s path to justice, one not so straight or narrow. One that often involved secrets, lies, half-truths, as well as a delicate balance between legal and illegal. He never revealed those secrets without absolute trust.

  But Eli had asked for his help. Not having heard that much fire in his friend’s voice in a long time, Grey had been intrigued. For that alone, he had planned to reach out and offer assistance. Then, the more he learned, the more he realized how vital it was that he become involved. It was just too damn bad he hadn’t been able to prevent Alice’s death.

  “I don’t have a great deal of information. Mostly speculation and theories at this point.”

  The case hadn’t been cut-and-dried before and was even less so now. He had several working theories but none he could share.

  The murkiness of the case was now ten times cloudier with Alice’s death. The woman who’d shot her was purported to be a former girlfriend of Braden’s. The speculation was that she’d wanted revenge for his death. Photographs had been found in her apartment, showing the two together. T
hat lame excuse of revenge had become even shadier when Grey’s investigators couldn’t find any credible evidence that Maureen Downey had even known Braden. The authorities had accepted the photographs as proof of their relationship. Grey wasn’t so trusting.

  Other, different clues were emerging, and he didn’t like where they were leading. So he would dig deeper until he found the truth, one way or the other.

  Until then, he would do what he could to help this woman who’d lost too much already.

  From everything he knew of Kathleen Callahan, after his own research and Eli’s observations, Grey believed he could trust her. Still, he would tell her only what she needed to know. Revealing more was not only foolhardy, but it was completely unnecessary. Kathleen’s focus was on exonerating her sister. Additional information would be superfluous.

  This was always the tricky part—revealing facts without showing his hand. “I believe Braden was killed by a hired killer, who set your sister up.”

  “You know who this man is? Who hired him?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why do you think it was a hired hit?”

  “Contract killers often have signatures. They can complete their assignment in various ways but usually have favored methods, which they often rely on unless their client has a specific preference.”

  “If Braden’s murder had a signature, why haven’t the police connected any other murders? It was an unusually gruesome crime.”

  “The poison was the signature. The rest was…over the top.” Grey hadn’t quite come to terms with that yet.

  “So that means exactly what?”

  “The cause of death, the poison, is similar to three other murders committed over the last few months. Similar enough that I believe it’s worth pursuing.”

  Her face was even paler than it had been before. “I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I know you don’t. I realize it’s hard to trust, but I promise, I am here to help.”

  “So you know how to find the person who killed Braden? What can you do that the police couldn’t?”

  Grey had no trouble playing hardball. He could tell her that if she wanted his help, she should just accept certain things without question. It might come to that at some point, but for now he didn’t mind sharing more information. Especially since he had an ulterior motive in telling her.

  “Sometimes a case is complicated and requires, shall we say, a delicate approach. There are some people who believe there’s only one way to pursue justice. I’m not one of those people. The path to get there isn’t always a straight, narrow, or smooth journey.”

  He left it at that. Kathleen Callahan was an intelligent woman, a security specialist. And had recently been hit between the eyes with the knowledge that one could do all the right things and justice still not be served. Justice was rarely black or white. Shades of gray permeated the entire system.

  She took another few seconds to study him. She was weighing his words, looking for a trap. Trust didn’t come easy for her, and even less so now. He already knew which path she would take. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t already know the outcome.

  “Where do we go from here?”

  “I’d like you to come work with me in Dallas. Unlimited resources will be available to you. Some of the top investigators in the world will be at your disposal. We’ll find the truth.”

  “Why would you want me to work for you? You don’t even know me.”

  “I never offer a job without knowing a prospective employee’s abilities. I’ve researched you. Your training is exemplary, your reputation impeccable.”

  “What kind of work would you want me to do?”

  He saw the doubt, the worry behind the question. Her confidence had taken several blows. However, he knew enough to know she would be an asset.

  “With a few variations, much the same as what you were doing in Colorado.”

  “Variations?” She cocked her head questioningly. No, Kathleen Callahan was not stupid or naïve. “All above board and legal?”

  Grey gave her a small enigmatic smile. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

  Kathleen stood in the middle of the apartment. Grey Justice had left a while ago but for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to gather the energy to move one more step. Getting a job offer on one of the worst days of her life was incomprehensible. At some point, her frozen brain would unthaw, and she would think about what he had offered her, what she had agreed to do. Facing a new job and a new city were inconsequential at this point. Everything was nothing.

  It was over. Her baby sister, her only family, the girl she had raised from an infant was gone. Her very own special angel.

  Like a tidal wave, everything came crashing down on her at once. The exhaustion, the guilt, the overwhelming need to scream out in agony. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor with a loud, jagged cry. Covering her face with her hands, she rocked back and forth and sobbed. The soul wrenching sounds echoing around her, mocking her aloneness. A taunt that she had failed her sister once again.

  Alice had looked at peace today. So sweet, so incredibly innocent as she lay in that hideous box. Even though it had been a surprisingly nice one, it was still a box. The funeral director had explained about an overstock or something that had enabled him to sell her the coffin at a greatly discounted price. Odd how finding a bargain had always cheered her up before. But not this one. Not this.

  Nevertheless she was grateful she had been able to give Alice this one last thing. A nice send-off for a girl who’d never had a lot and had died too young. A precious angel who had made mistakes but hadn’t been a bad person—just human.

  Raising her head, Kathleen looked around the sparse room, ignoring the hideousness of it for once. Her eyes zeroed in on her hiding place, the one spot she believed was safe from thieves, where she had secreted away the last thing that meant anything to her. Her memories.

  Though she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her, she refused to allow herself the luxury of crawling. She pushed herself to stand and though her feet shuffled on the threadbare carpet as if she were a century old, she counted it a win that she was even moving.

  She removed one of the cushions from the couch and pulled back the material from the bottom. This decrepit sofa had been here when she’d moved into the apartment. It had given her landlord the ability to charge an extra ten bucks a month for a ‘furnished’ apartment. Ridiculous yes, but it had served its purpose. As large as it was and the condition it was in, no way in hell would anyone ever try to steal the thing. She had figured the massive couch was safe from even the most desperate of thieves.

  In between rusted springs and rotting material was where she’d stored her last treasure. She pulled the small box out and held it to her chest. This was all she had left.

  Replacing the cushion, she dropped onto the couch, ignoring the additional splits she’d just added to the fake leather upholstery. With shaking hands, she lifted the lid and peered down into the faces of those she’d loved. Forever in her heart, no longer in her life.

  As silent tears streamed down her face, Kathleen carefully examined each photograph, remembering the moment each one was taken. The laughter, the tears, the moments that didn’t seem all that special at the time but were now priceless and beautiful. She wanted to reach out and grab each one of them back, hold it in her hand and cherish it.

  She lovingly fingered the two doll dresses that she hadn’t been able to part with. She had often used her doll clothes to dress her sister. These two frilly, nonsensical dresses had been her favorites.

  Had she ever told Alice how thankful she was for her? Kathleen had been a devastated little girl who had just lost her mother. Daniel Callahan had been too grief stricken himself to offer much comfort. So she had poured out all of her love and devotion to her baby sister. She had devoured books on infants and baby care, determined to be the best sister she could be. Alice had been her lifesaver. Had she ever told her how important she was? Had Alice
known how much she loved her? How grateful she was for her? The questions would haunt her forever.

  Half an hour later, she whispered a soft goodbye to her family, then closed the box and returned it to its hiding place.

  Standing straight, resolve settled into her mind and her heart. She would go to Dallas, do the job she was hired to do, and take advantage of Grey Justice’s offer. She would find justice for Alice.

  But never again would she allow herself the vulnerability or the luxury of loving anyone. Loving meant losing, at least for the Callahans. Never again.

  Chapter Seven

  Three months later

  Hiram Clemens State Correctional Facility

  Enid, Texas

  The heavy, steel door closed with a loud, reverberating clang. Eli barely refrained from wincing as the sound invoked a memory he could’ve lived without. Barely a year ago, he’d been visiting his brother Jonah in prison. And today, he was visiting another brother. The last person he wanted to see was Adam, but he had to get some answers. For his children, he’d face Satan himself.

  The small room was dingy and smelled of a strong disinfectant that couldn’t completely cover the years of piss and vomit the room had endured. He sat in a chair that looked about fifty years old and creaked in protest when he eased his big body into it. The chipped, wood table before him was covered in crude drawings and carved profanities. The fact that many of them were misspelled struck him as amusing. He didn’t know why.

  The door opened, and his oldest brother shuffled into the room. The changes in Adam weren’t as notable as they’d been on Jonah. Maybe because Jonah was innocent—framed by his own father and imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. Adam was most definitely guilty—responsible for more than what he’d been convicted for. Maybe that was the difference. That and the fact that Adam Slater had little to no conscience.