Whatever It Takes 2

by Christy Reece

  Only a few hours ago, she had told him she loved him. Despite all the troubles still facing them, he wanted to celebrate that miracle. Hold her in his arms and convince himself that for a few stolen moments, all was right with his world.

  He gestured at the bed. “This is one place I really don’t want my father.”

  Lifting her head, Kathleen gave him a weary smile and started gathering papers together. “Sorry. Still looking for that connection between Braden and your father.”

  He had some thoughts on another kind of connection, but he wasn’t about to bring that up tonight. He needed to do a little research on his own before destroying her world once again.

  “We’ve dug enough to know there doesn’t appear to be a business link, but you’re talking personal? There was a big age difference between the two. They lived across the country from each other. Other than they were both sleazebags, their perversions of choice weren’t related. What kind of personal connection could there be?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s get some rest and tackle it tomorrow.” He gave her his most lascivious leer. “My eyes are so blurred it’s almost impossible for me to tell if you’re wearing clothes or not.”

  She laughed and shoved a stack of papers off the bed. “Is that right? Well, I guess this sexy, see-through gown I’m wearing is pointless.”

  He gave an exaggerated blink. “How about that? I think they’re clearing up again. But where’s that sexy see-through?”

  “Come down here and help me find it.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He sat on the bed beside her and helped her stack the rest of the papers. “What’s this?”

  She peered over his shoulder. “What’s what?”

  “This list.”

  “Oh, it’s a list of companies Braden had an investment or interest in. I thought maybe someone had him killed either for revenge or to possibly get his stock at a good price.” She shrugged. “I was scraping the bottom of the barrel, I admit. I—”

  Obviously noting the stiffness in his body, she sat beside him so she could see his face. “What?”

  His heart pounding, he surged from the bed and grabbed up the papers. “Come with me.”

  Chapter Forty

  Grey arrived just as Kathleen and Kennedy finished setting up. Kathleen and Eli had worked until after three this morning. When she could no longer hold her eyes open, she’d convinced him to come to bed for a few hours. They’d fallen into bed, arms wrapped around each other, believing they had finally found that connection.

  A few hours later, she’d woken alone and found a note beside her pillow to meet him in the conference room when she was dressed. She’d walked in to see he’d already consumed half a pot of coffee but looked as triumphant and optimistic as she’d ever seen him. Kathleen felt an almost euphoric glee.

  By the time Kennedy and Nick arrived, she and Eli had completed half the boards. When Eli explained what he’d found, they’d gotten to work, too. Once they’d seen the thread…where it was going, it had been easy enough to follow, connect, and then tie them together.

  When they’d felt they had gone as far as they could, Eli had made a call to Grey.

  Now armed with more information than they’d believed possible, Eli stood at the front of the room and faced the small group.

  “Since Justice hasn’t heard any of this, and I want to make sure we’re all on the same page, I’ll begin with how we believe it started. After that, we’ll move to what we can prove and are certain of. And then, we’ll talk about what we speculate.” Eli’s gaze went to Grey. “That’s where you come in. There are certain things I think you can find faster than we can.”

  At Grey’s nod of acknowledgment, Eli continued, “Forty-nine years ago, a twenty-year-old Mathias went to visit his cousins in Dorman, Nebraska. It’s a little town right outside Omaha and at that time had a population of right under ten thousand.

  “Since it was such a small town, there was little to do. Except a special event happened to be taking place in Dorman. One of their own, Frisco Durango, was coming for a visit.”

  Justice’s arched a brow. “Frisco Durango?”

  Eli grinned. “I kid you not. Anyway, Frisco had made it big on the rodeo circuit and, wanting to give back to the community, arranged a rodeo for the town. People came from all over the state, some from neighboring states.”

  “That would’ve been a great boon to a little town,” Grey said.

  “Yeah. Businesses that weekend were going to reap the reward. And Mathias, most likely bored and restless, saw an opportunity.”

  Eli glanced over at Kathleen, who continued the story from where she sat. “Three businesses—a mom-and-pop grocery store, a little ice cream shop, and a hole-in-the-wall barbecue joint—were all held up late that Saturday night. Wearing ski masks, several young men—we’re still not sure of the number yet—stole an estimated $128,000.”

  She glanced over at Nick, who picked up the story. “This is where the speculation part comes in. The money was recovered, but no arrests were made. We figure Mathias’s father, who was by far the wealthiest among the families involved, paid off each of the businesses so they wouldn’t press charges. Maybe encouraged them not to talk about it.”

  “If no arrests were made, how do you know the robberies even happened?”

  “Kennedy found it in an old newspaper article, which got us onto the trail,” Nick said. “With the money being recovered and no one ever charged, it was apparently a big mystery that local residents talked about but never solved.

  “I called the local law in Dorman. Took some time and more charm than I knew I had, but I managed to persuade the records clerk to look up the emergency calls from that night. She confirmed that three robbery calls came in, from those businesses.

  “Then, I talked to a few old-timers in Dorman who remembered what happened. They all agreed the robberies happened, and then it was all hush-hush, and no one spoke of it.”

  “It might have stayed this way—like it never happened,” Kennedy said. “Except the day after the robbery, the wife of the man who owned the barbecue place had a heart attack and died.”

  Justice didn’t speak, but his confusion was clear. How could a woman who died of a heart attack almost fifty years ago have anything to do with the death threats Eli and his family were experiencing? Eli appreciated the man’s restraint in not questioning.

  “The name of the man who owned the barbecue place was Bruce Johnson. We believe,” Kennedy continued, “that Johnson had a son named James, and he was in on the hold-up.”

  “James robbed his own father’s restaurant?” Justice asked.

  “Yes. And when the mother found out her son had been involved in the robberies, she had a heart attack,” Kathleen explained.

  “The old-timers we talked to,” Nick said, “claimed it was widely known that the wife had a heart condition and that the father blamed his son for her death.”

  “What happened next?” Justice asked.

  “That’s where things get shady,” Kathleen said.

  “How so?”

  “A year later, Bruce Johnson closed down his barbecue place and moved out of town. It was assumed his kid, James, went with him. But when Bruce showed up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, a few months later, he was alone, a childless widower. There’s no clue what happened to his son. All we know is the father worked as a cook at a local diner in downtown Tulsa.”

  “So you think Bruce Johnson killed his son?”

  “That was our first inclination,” Eli said.

  “But not now?”

  “We know the kid graduated high school that year,” Nick said. “And that father and son left town the next day.”

  “Okay, you’ve sold me on the fact that there was a crime and that it was covered up. And I agree that it’s likely Mathias was involved. But what are we looking at? Revenge? If so, why the hell wait almost fifty years? Also, what about the other young men involved in the robberies? What hap
pened to them? Why the hell target you, Eli?”

  “Give us a minute,” Eli said, “and it’ll all become clearer, I promise. None of this made sense or seemed connected until I spotted a familiar name in some of the research Kathleen did on Frank Braden.”

  That sparked a light in Justice’s eyes as his gaze targeted Kathleen. “You found a link between Frank Braden and Mathias?”

  Kathleen gave a quick smile. “Actually, it’s a link between Francis Braden, Frank’s father, and Mathias.”

  Eli went to a board and turned it around. “Like clockwork, on the twelfth day of each month, both Mathias and Francis Braden made payments to the Grinstead Foundation.”

  “Which is?” Justice said.

  “Supposed to be a non-profit foundation for conservation and ecology,” Nick answered. “Turns out, it’s a fake charity. There’s nothing behind it.”

  “Using that information, we’ve confirmed that at least three other men made contributions to the same company. George MacDougal, Oscar Clancy, and Monty Owens.”

  “How did you find that information?”

  Kennedy grinned. “With a little hacking, a lot of digging, three doughnuts, and a half gallon of decaf.”

  “We also confirmed that all three—MacDougal, Clancy, and Owens—lived in Dorman at the time of the robberies,” Eli added.

  “Okay, so you have at least five men that you know of who contributed a certain amount of money each month. For how long?”

  “Thirty-six years,” Kathleen said. “And then, nothing. There’s no indication that these men donated any more money to this company.”

  “How much money?” Justice asked.

  “Five hundred at the beginning. Then the amounts increased—perhaps as each man’s income increased. But each man paid the same amount.”

  “Up until thirteen years ago,” Kathleen added. “After that, the payments stopped.”

  “What was the amount of the last payments?” Justice asked.

  “Five thousand,” Eli said.

  “All right. I’ll buy that it might’ve been a mutual agreement to stop the payments and that whoever was on the receiving end might’ve been pissed at the loss of income. But as Kathleen pointed out, that was thirteen years ago. Why wait until now to do anything? And again, why you, Eli? I don’t see—” Justice stopped and then said, “Wait. The other men involved in the robberies. What happened to them?”

  “All dead,” Eli answered. “The first death was nine months after the last payment was made. It was ruled an accident. As were all subsequent deaths.”

  Going to another board, he turned it around. “Monty Owens was the first to die when scaffolding from a building he was working on fell and crushed him. Eighteen months after that, Francis Braden died in a house explosion. Ruled a gas leak. Three years later, George MacDougal went fishing alone. His body was discovered three days later. It was ruled an accidental drowning. Oscar Clancy fell from the twentieth floor of a hotel balcony. Also ruled an accident.”

  “What about Mathias? Why wasn’t he targeted?”

  Anger flashed through Eli as he recalled the phone conversation he’d had with his mother a few hours ago. “I couldn’t believe he’d escaped either. That’s why I called my mother to jog her memory. She admitted there had been two different incidents, possibly attempts on his life. One was a mugging four years ago, when they were in San Francisco. We all know that Mathias was a tough old bird. He beat the hell out of the mugger. Never reported it to the police. Mathias considered the matter done. The second time was a year after that. They were vacationing in France. My father opened his suitcase to unpack and found a rattlesnake in his underwear.

  “Mother said he threw a towel over it, strangled the damn thing, and then pitched it out the window.”

  “That’s it?” Justice said. “He didn’t suspect that someone had placed it there?”

  “If he did, she said he never let on to her. She said he insisted on going through her luggage. They found nothing else.”

  “Hell, I know we live in Texas and see more than our share of snakes,” Nick said, “but damned if I wouldn’t suspect some foul play if I found a snake in my underwear.”

  “With Mathias, who knows?” Eli said. “By then, he probably had so many people gunning for him, it would have been difficult to pinpoint one person.”

  “What about your father’s death last year?” Kathleen asked. “Could Cyrus Denton, the man who shot him, have been a hired killer?”

  If anyone other than Justice noticed that Eli stiffened at the question, no one said anything. Shrugging, Eli said truthfully, “We know for a fact that Cyrus did a lot of my father’s dirty work, which included murder. But I’m reasonably sure he was not hired to kill Mathias.”

  Before anyone could question why Eli was so certain of that, Justice helped him out by saying, “Okay, so we know these five men, whom we speculate were involved in a robbery with this James Johnson, are dead.”

  “Yes. And though James Johnson disappeared off the radar, we’re assuming he’s the one behind it.”

  “Why are you looking at the son, James, and not his father, Bruce? He’d be an old man by now, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t hire someone to take out these people. Seems like he’d be the one who would be holding a grudge or wanting revenge.”

  “Because Bruce Johnson was killed three years after he moved to Tulsa. House burned down, ruled an arson but no one was ever charged.”

  “You figure the son did him?” Justice said.

  “That would be my take,” Eli said.

  “Okay, let me see if I can sum this up. So far, you have three robberies that happened forty-nine years ago. At least five of the men believed involved in those robberies are dead. And four of those deaths look somewhat suspicious.”

  “Yes.”

  “And now, I assume you’re going to tell me that those men’s relatives have had similar misfortunes.”

  Eli gave a grimacing smile. “Give the man a prize. That’s exactly what we’re going to tell you. Each one of us took a family and followed it through.

  “George MacDougal never married but had a son with his onetime live-in girlfriend. That child, a boy, age twenty-four, was found in his apartment with a bullet in his head. He’d had some depressive episodes, so his death was ruled a suicide.”

  He nodded at Kathleen, who walked over to another board and said, “Francis Braden had two children. Frank was killed by poisoning. And only a few weeks ago, his brother, Joseph, was found dead in a bathtub in a motel in Boise, Idaho. He had a high alcohol level in his system, and his death was ruled an accidental drowning.”

  Kathleen gave a nod to Kennedy, who said, “A few weeks ago, Oscar Clancy’s only child Graham, along with Graham’s wife, Helena, and their two children, Miles and Kimberly, were killed in a one-car crash. Car burned to a crisp. It was ruled an accident.”

  Nick looked at the board he was standing beside. “Howard Owens, Monty’s son and only child, along with Howard’s wife Vonda, were killed in a single-engine plane crash. Howard, who was piloting the plane, called in a Mayday that they were having engine trouble. They were flying over the Atlantic Ocean when they disappeared off radar. The wreckage and their bodies were found by some divers a few months later.

  “Seven months after that, Russell Owens, Howard and Vonda’s only child, was found at the bottom of a ravine in Delamore, New Mexico. His neck was broken. Since it was a known fact that he liked to hike and climb by himself, it was assumed he was doing so when he fell to his death.”

  Justice sat quietly for a few seconds, taking it in, then blew a long, soft whistle. “So this bastard is patiently and systematically eliminating every man’s direct blood tie.”

  Eli nodded. “Plus anyone else who happens to get in the way.”

  “And you’re thinking that James Johnson is the one responsible for this massacre?”

  “Only makes sense that it’s him,” Eli said. “Problem is, we can’t find him. Johnson
is a common name and there are thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of James Johnson’s. Finding the right one is proving almost impossible.”

  “You don’t think he changed his name?” Justice said.

  “There’s the possibility but more than likely there wasn’t a need,” Nick answered.

  Justice sat silently for a few more seconds, his eyes scanning each board. “You guys have done amazing work. What do you need from me?”

  “Find the right James Johnson,” Eli said.

  Standing, Justice said, “Send me everything you’ve got. I’ll take it from here.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  His arm wrapped around Kathleen’s shoulders, he guided her up the stairs to their bedroom. The dark shadows beneath her eyes and the translucency of her skin were a testament to her exhaustion. She’d had only a few hours’ sleep last night. And though he’d had even less, Eli couldn’t really rest. Yes, he was relieved that they had apparently identified the source of the threats, and he had faith that Justice, with his resources and contacts, would be able to locate the bastard behind all of this. But there was a new dark cloud hanging over them. One that Kathleen wasn’t even aware of yet. When she learned about it, he knew without a doubt, her heart would be broken once again.

  From the moment he’d first suspected a connection, he’d debated what he should do. Had even considered not telling her at all. She’d been hurt enough, and knowing the truth would do nothing more than hurt her once again. Eli wouldn’t feel an ounce of guilt by keeping it from her. When it came to those he loved, he could be cold-bloodedly ruthless. Protecting them would always be his number one priority.

  So not telling her wouldn’t bother him a damn bit. But if he didn’t tell her, what did that say about his belief in her? Kathleen was one of the strongest, most courageous people he’d ever known. If he didn’t tell her, then he was making a mockery of that strength. Bottom line, he trusted her to handle this new heartache just as she’d handled every adversity before. But there was a difference this time. He would be with her every step of the way. Her champion and biggest supporter. She was no longer alone.