The Sullivan Gray Series Box Set

by H. P. Bayne

  He received his answer as he had so many in his life, an unexpected find setting his world on its head.

  There, tucked deeply into the crease between the pages, was a single strand of long, purple hair. And while the puzzle that was his life still needed assembling, it was like finding a box containing not only a number of previously missing pieces, but a picture of what the puzzle was supposed to look like once complete.

  He felt her presence so strongly then, it was like a current of electricity had passed between them. Slowly he raised his eyes, his pulse galloping through his veins, yet his heart catching in his throat. She stared down at him through eyes filled with cautious hope tempered with the fear he had so frequently seen there.

  “Mom?”

  Sully’s voice cracked as he said the word, his emotion as unanticipated as his reality.

  And, as the corners of her mouth turned up, slowly at first, and then a little more, it occurred to him he had never before seen the Purple Girl smile.

  29

  Dez had hit a roadblock and it pushed him directly into Riverview Park.

  He found Bulldog on his way up from the bank, grinning one of those ear-to-ear smiles that helped him keep friends despite his occasional sour turns.

  His voice boomed across the park when he saw Dez. “Copper! Anything?”

  “Keep it down, man.”

  Bulldog kept quiet until they met at a park bench. “Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything about our mutual friend. So, anything on that?”

  Dez frowned. “I actually came to ask you the same thing.”

  Bulldog scrubbed his jawline. “Our boy is still just like one of his ghosts. Far as the world’s concerned, he’s dead and no one’s seen or heard anything about him. One thing came up, though. Some old guy in one of the buildings across the way saw a couple people dragging some dude to a van early yesterday morning. Figure it had to be around the time you and me were chatting, ‘cuz he remembers seeing you. You’re kinda hard to miss.”

  “Hang on, Bulldog, back up. This ‘dude’ you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, the old guy thought he was three sheets to the wind, way he looked. Some young homeless scruff, he figured. Problem is, my source on this didn’t bother getting a better description, and the guy’s left town now for holidays with his kids. I checked. Said he thought he saw one of the two people pull off some kinda mask. Both people appeared to be in their twenties. One was a man, one a woman.”

  “A woman? You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, what he said.”

  “And you’re sure he said she was young too?”

  “Yep, apparently. He was a little more descriptive about her. Said she was a looker. On the small side, but seemed to be pretty strong, the way she was helping to hold the guy up between them. White woman, blonde hair, nice rack. Wasn’t a whole lot else he had to say.”

  Dez had no doubt they were talking about Sully’s kidnapping here, meaning the man mentioned was Brennan. It was the woman troubling Dez, the description doing little to provide a decent clue to her identity. Prior to learning what he had of Lucienne today, it had occurred to him she might have had some role to play in this and was simply keeping close to Dez to ensure he wasn’t getting too near the truth. But he’d thought better of his earlier suspicions, and now this description proved it. Sure, Lucienne looked younger than her forty years. But he was willing to bet whoever had been in this park yesterday was not the woman who had slept on his pullout bed that night.

  One other question occurred to Dez, but Bulldog didn’t have much insight on that, either. The vehicle involved had been a delivery van, nondescript and white. An older model, bare of markings with no discernible licence plate. The only item of note was the tires, which appeared to be missing rims, at least on the passenger side visible to the witness.

  It wasn’t enough to go on, particularly since the man wasn’t around for further questioning. Even so, Dez took his leave from Bulldog, intent on heading to the witness’s building to check for any neighbours who might know a way to reach him. If Dez was lucky, he’d leave with a phone number, but he wouldn’t complain if all he came away with was a name. If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding people. People who hadn’t faked their own deaths and gone off the grid before ending up imprisoned somewhere else, anyway.

  His course was interrupted by Eva’s ringtone sounding in his pocket.

  “Dez, where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Don’t even try it, you jerk. I know all about it. Raynor’s been going nuts trying to find you. He came to me asking if I could reach you, and he filled me in on everything you hadn’t bothered to share. Had you been planning on telling me you spent the morning in the ER?”

  “I had nothing to do with the man’s death, Eva.”

  “I know that, dummy. I’m talking about you getting beaten up. Forbes said you have broken ribs.”

  Dez dropped his head into a hand, rubbing at his temples. He was going to kill Raynor. “One rib, and it’s just a crack.”

  “Like that’s different somehow. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because I didn’t want to get you worried over nothing.”

  “In what imaginary world does this pass as nothing? Someone tried to kill you.”

  “He didn’t. I’m a little banged up, but I’ll be fine. Listen, Evie, I knew you’d come. That’s why I didn’t call. I knew I’d be stuck there into the noon hour and you’d be left trying to figure out what to do with Kayleigh or what to tell her. Neither of us would have wanted her to see me like that. It just seemed a better option to wait on it and tell you later.”

  “And were you going to tell me later?”

  Unfortunately, the question wasn’t one Dez could answer both honestly and in a way that would avoid frustrating her further. “Evie ….”

  “Damn it, Dez. It’s a damn good thing I’m not there in front of you right now, or I’d put you back in the hospital.”

  Dez grinned into his phone. “I love it when you play rough.”

  “Shut up. Now listen, Forbes really needs to talk to you. And before you freak out, you’re in the clear on the guy’s death. The coroner spotted a track mark from a needle in the crook of the guy’s arm, and they sent a blood sample for a quick tox screen. They found a lethal dose of some sort of tranquilizer.”

  Dez guessed azaperon or zolazepam, the drugs the kidnappers had used to down Pax and quite likely Sully. He thought back to when he entered the guy’s hospital room. “The constable said a nurse went in to see the guy shortly before he died. I didn’t see her, but the officer should have a description.”

  “Forbes is all over that. I really think you need to give him a call.”

  “Not now, Eva. I’ve got too much on my plate. I’ve got a lead I need to follow up. Can I give you a call later?”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me. I’ve got something else for you here. I’ve been doing some digging based on what we read about Lucienne Dule. I found Artie’s file. It was buried pretty deep back in records, but it was there.”

  “Anything new?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, nothing jumping out at me exactly, but I haven’t been down as deep in this as you have. I’ve signed the file out and I’m thinking you should have a look, see if anything clicks.”

  “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

  “Crap.”

  “Hey, I’m serious.”

  “No, I mean Forbes is coming this way,” Eva said. “Listen, I’ll call you later, okay? Make sure you pick up.”

  “For you, always.”

  He wasn’t sure if she heard his last statement as the call was dropped immediately after. Now he had only to sit here and wait.

  And worry.

  Eva’s next phone call, coming within five minutes of her ending the previous one, didn’t bring Dez much relief.

  “Don’t hate me,” she said.

  “What did you do?”

  “
Forbes took the file.”

  “What? Why? You weren’t breaking any rules signing out a closed file.”

  “No, but I was breaking the rules signing it out for someone who isn’t authorized to see it.”

  “You didn’t tell him that, did you?”

  “I didn’t have to,” Eva said. “Forbes is investigating what happened to Lachlan. It’s obvious you know more about that case than Forbes does, and it’s just as obvious you know more about Lachlan’s most recent client than you’ve let on. Forbes scanned the file and he saw the name Lucienne. Things went downhill pretty fast after that.”

  “Define downhill.”

  “If you look it up online, you’ll see a picture of me on the unemployment line.”

  “Christ, he’s not reporting you for this, is he?”

  “He said he’ll keep it to himself as long as you meet with him. Right now.”

  Forbes had played his ace, leaving Dez with no choice but to fold.

  “I’m sorry, Snowman.”

  “It’s all right, Evie. Thanks for trying. Just tell me where and when.”

  Dez wasn’t surprised to learn Forbes wanted to be picked up. It was a lot harder to get in a good punch from within the confines of a vehicle, particularly while driving.

  Dez had expected smug from his new passenger. What he got instead was a good dose of paranoid.

  “Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Dez asked, taking in Forbes’s paler-than-usual face and the shoulders hunched so near his ears it was a wonder they didn’t impair the guy’s hearing.

  “Just drive.”

  “Where to?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Forbes had a battered file in hand and was working on adding a few dog ears of his own as he bent it and toyed with its edges. Dez tried to read the name on it, hoping it was indeed the file he needed, but Forbes was playing around with it too much to allow more than a second to scan the writing on the front.

  Dez drove a few blocks with no further conversation passing between them. While he normally believed silence was golden as far as the two of them were concerned, right now it was downright nerve-wracking.

  “Is there something you want to discuss or would you rather I hum the theme song to Driving Miss Daisy?” he asked.

  Forbes looked up, eyes a little large as if he’d momentarily forgotten Dez was there. Dez figured there a smart-ass comment would be coming his way, but it turned out his passenger wasn’t playing.

  “Riverview Cemetery,” Forbes said. “It’s quiet there. Anyway, it’s where everything started, isn’t it?”

  “Usually cemeteries are places things end, not start.” Dez’s attempt at a joke sounded hollow even to his own ears, his anxiety taking a couple more steps up that internal ladder toward full-blown panic. What did Forbes need quiet for, anyway? The way things had been playing out lately, Dez was all for large crowds full of potential witnesses, which was exactly what he wouldn’t get where they were headed. Then there was the matter of Forbes’s use of the term “where everything started.” It was unclear what he’d meant by that, but Dez was banking on its meaning nothing good for him.

  “Wouldn’t you rather head to, I don’t know, maybe the park or something?”

  That at least put a smile on Forbes’s face. “Scared, Braddock?”

  There was no backing down from that challenge, so Dez responded with a “Piss off” and a flick of his signal, turning his vehicle in the direction of the graveyard.

  As suspected, the place was all but deserted, and it didn’t do Dez’s nerves any favours as Forbes directed him to drive them further in. It wasn’t until they were near the few rows of standing tombs near the back of the cemetery’s east side that Forbes told him to stop.

  Dez pushed the stick into park and turned to face the other man. “So what do you want to see me about?”

  Forbes didn’t answer immediately, and Dez could physically see the thoughts passing across Forbes’s face as he considered how best to answer. He settled for tapping hard at the file folder in his lap. “What do you want with this?”

  That answered the question about the file’s subject. “I can’t discuss it with you. Not yet.”

  “Then you’re not going to see it.”

  “Come on, man—”

  “No, you come on,” Forbes said. “You’ve been turning up left, right and centre lately, and it’s never in a good way. Now I’ve got stuff I need to work out, and I think—no, I know—you’ve got answers I need. You can cooperate or you can risk an obstruction charge and the lifelong guilt of putting your wife out of work beside you.”

  “You fucking asshole.”

  Dez guessed he looked every bit as pissed off as he felt when he saw Forbes flinch, so he went with it. “You do what you want where I’m concerned, but you mess with my wife, we’ve got a problem. You hear me, Raynor?”

  Forbes’s response was to distance himself from the threat, getting out of the SUV. Unfortunately, he took the folder with him, leaving Dez to follow his lead.

  Forbes was pretending to read the writing on one of the old family tombs, the bodies it held locked behind a wrought iron gate. It was clear he was trying to get his game face back in place, but the man’s gaze wasn’t focused on anything in front of him like he was making out. He had turned inward and, judging by what Dez could make out on the cop’s face, he didn’t like what he saw there.

  “Look, I came out here with you,” Dez said. “Now, what do you want?”

  Forbes didn’t turn his head. “We both have wives we love, even if they don’t love us back. At least not the way we need them to.” The answer was as cryptic as it was frustrating to someone who just needed this meeting over and done.

  “What the hell are you talking about? Did you seriously drag me out here to have a chinwag about our love lives?”

  Forbes gave a barely there headshake. “I need you to tell me what you’re up to and why.”

  “Look, Lachlan was working on something when he was assaulted. He asked me for help but needs his client protected. Problem is, I’m trying to piece it together but he didn’t give me much to go on.”

  Forbes’s eyes snapped from the tomb onto Dez’s face. “Bullshit. You know exactly what you’re working on. Why else would you need this?” Again, Forbes indicated the file, holding it up between them. Dez was tempted to grab it and run, but there was too much on the line that stood to impact the people he loved.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Raynor.”

  “You’re crap at lying, Braddock. But just in case any part of you is on the fence here, let me help you out. I haven’t had much time with this file, but I’ve scanned the lead investigator’s final report. It’s interesting because the name Lucienne pops out pretty damn quick. So, tell me. Would this be the same Lucienne as the one you mentioned as Lachlan’s last client? The same Lucienne you’re apparently trying to help now?”

  “I need to see that file.”

  “What you need is to tell me the truth.”

  “It’s not mine to tell,” Dez said. “If you want answers, go to Lachlan. Or track down Lucienne. But I can’t say anything. I promised.”

  “Promises don’t mean anything where you’re going.”

  Dez barked out a quick laugh. “What, seriously? You’re going to haul me in over this?”

  But Forbes, it turned out, wasn’t interested in hauling him anywhere. He pulled a gun—not his service sidearm, but an old revolver—and aimed it at Dez’s heart.

  Dez struggled to drag his eyes from the barrel of the weapon back to Forbes’s face. He couldn’t fully get there. “Put that away, man.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “That gun’s so old, it’s just as likely to backfire or explode in your hand as it is to kill me. Put it away.”

  “I can’t.” And, this time, Dez could hear desperation in the words, enough that he was finally able to pull his gaze up to Forbes’s. The man’s face was twisted, not in rage b
ut in some sort of undefinable pain as his eyes blinked back the first signs of unshed tears.

  “What are you doing, Forbes?” But the question had become unnecessary, just a way to fill the silence. Because it was clear what Forbes was doing, or at least what he intended to do.

  Dez knew if he turned his head, he’d be able to look to the spot where his family was buried. If Forbes followed through on his reason for being here, Dez was about to join them.

  30

  Forbes didn’t have the look of a killer but, in Dez’s experience, that didn’t mean much.

  Murder wasn’t like it was on television. Many gangsters of Dez’s acquaintance now serving life sentences had relied on the haze of alcohol and peer pressure from their bros to take a life—at least the first time. And Dez had read that abusive men who killed a spouse were unlikely to do so again.

  Murder was a messy business, and people didn’t die quick and quiet. As a Major Crimes investigator, Forbes knew what he was in for and, while he didn’t particularly like Dez, he was a fellow human being at the end of the day. A shot to the heart would kill, but not immediately. It could take as long as thirty seconds to a minute, and they both knew that was plenty long enough to give Forbes some lifelong PTSD issues to wrestle with.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Dez said, the statement more observational than an attempt to convince. Because, right now anyway, it didn’t look like Forbes needed a whole lot of convincing.

  Then again …. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you do. You can tell me why you’re doing this.”

  Forbes shook his head, the movement more reminiscent of chasing away a fly or a bad thought than an indication of a “no.”

  “Come on, Forbes. You know what will happen if you kill me.”

  “No one will know it was me. This gun is untraceable.”

  Dez caught himself before he could say Eva would know. If he didn’t find a way out of this, she would make a logical next target.