Framed: A Psychological Thriller (Boston's Crimes of Passion Book 2)

by Colleen Connally

  Centrello wanted the murders solved…yesterday. Brophy had his orders and had every intention of delivering.

  It brought him over to Mass General. From the last report, Kincaid had gotten out of surgery an hour ago. Shot in the shoulder, Kincaid’s wound had not been life threatening, but now Brophy intended to talk to him and the girl.

  As he walked down the corridor, he spotted Cruz outside a door. She motioned for him.

  “I have Riley waiting for you in here. It is the only place I could arrange for you to talk to her in private. Logan and McGuire have already questioned her,” Cruz stated.

  “It’s fine,” he said bluntly—a little too bluntly—as he turned the handle to the door.

  “Kincaid is in recovery.”

  Brophy nodded and went in.

  Riley stood by the window, as if staring out into nothingness. She had changed from her evening apparel into a pair of blue scrubs that the nursing staff must have scrounged up for her.

  She was visibly pale; her hair was disheveled. He doubted she had slept.

  “Miss Ashcroft.”

  Pressing her lips together, she took a moment before she answered. “Detective, I was told you wanted to talk to me. I don’t know what I could add to what I have already told the other detectives…”

  Brophy gave her a forced smile and took out his pad and pen. “It won’t take long. I know you have been through a lot, but I’m trying to keep another incident from happening again.”

  “And you believe I can stop it?”

  “Can you?” he countered, his patience lost. He had no tolerance to be put off. “Enough is enough. Don’t play games with me. I want answers. I want them now.”

  She tensed. “You forget that someone is trying to kill me. Don’t you believe I want you to catch whoever it is?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered with brutal honesty. He moved closer to her. She took a step back. He believed she would have bolted if he wasn’t blocking the exit.

  He pressed on. “Let’s back up. Tell me who was at the party. Did you see anyone leave?”

  She shook her head. “I was the one who left…I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m sure you already know why. My cousin confronted me in the most embarrassing scene.” Hurt and pain resonated in her voice. “She was drunk and said awful…awful things…”

  “From what I gather, she accused you of having an affair with her husband.”

  Her eyes flared. He had hit a nerve.

  “Olivia held on to the past. I made a mistake years ago, but it wasn’t an affair…it was never an affair. Olivia never forgave me.”

  “Don’t you think that’s understandable?”

  “Think what? That I’m not an innocent victim in all of this?” Her voice cracked. “That I deserve everything that has happened to me? I betrayed my family…betrayed Olivia… I deserve everything that has happened to me?

  “It’s ironic, really… Dennis was my fiancé before he dumped me for my cousin. She stole him while I was away traveling with Nana. Three months I was gone… When I came back, they were married.”

  “So it was revenge?”

  Slowly, she shook her head and confessed in a tired, low voice, “No…no…I never meant to hurt anyone… It was on the anniversary of Daddy’s death. I didn’t want to be alone and it just happened…it was only once.

  “I don’t even know how Olivia found out…but when she did, I left Charleston.” She sighed. “I have paid for my sin, Detective. During my time with Nana and Grandfather, I wasn’t allowed at family events if Olivia attended. I wasn’t allowed contact with Dennis in any form. If I didn’t keep to the strict rules in place, I would have been thrown into the streets, penniless.

  “I was nothing more than a hired servant.”

  Brophy studied her for a minute. Obviously, the girl was overwrought, but surely she realized that someone…or everyone…was stirring the pot with her relationship with her cousin.

  Just as assuredly as he recognized that this information also gave Riley motive to cause dissention of her own.

  “Why then was Olivia confronting you if what you say is true? I heard there were pictures.”

  Closing her eyes, Riley rubbed her forehead as if her head throbbed. “They were nothing,” she assured him. “Dennis asked me to meet him yesterday. He told me that he had already started proceedings for a divorce. He wanted me to know.”

  Brophy nodded. He had already seen the pictures…had already talked with the grieving husband. He agreed there wasn’t much to them, but they had served someone’s purpose—angering Olivia enough to cause the confrontation.

  “How did you respond to Dennis’s news?”

  “He wanted a chance to reconcile…I told him it was over a long time ago. I had moved on.”

  “With Kincaid?”

  She said nothing.

  “Let’s change directions,” Brophy said. “Tell me. Is there any possible way for anyone to have known you would leave by the side entrance?”

  “It wasn’t a secret that Nana used that entrance all the time. I did as well. I would imagine it would have been a logical deduction.”

  He nodded again and wrote on his pad. A knock on the door disturbed their conversation.

  A young, bright-eyed nurse popped her head in. “Miss Ashcroft, Mr. Kincaid is awake and asking for you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Riley assured her and turned back to Brophy. “Is there anything else?”

  “Are you certain your uncles were in the room before you left the party?”

  “No,” she answered brusquely. “I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I only wanted to leave.”

  “You don’t have any idea who wants you dead?”

  “Besides my entire family? No. Now, excuse me.”

  Brophy stepped out of the way. He wasn’t done talking to her yet. He had more questions, but his main concern was keeping her alive until he could make sense of a senseless situation.

  “Miss Ashcroft.” She turned back to him. “You have been assigned a detail. It is obvious your life is in danger. After you visit Kincaid, we can make arrangements for your safety.”

  She looked as if a protest lay on her lips, but she said nothing. Pivoting on her heels, she walked out.

  * * * *

  A shudder ripped through Riley with Detective Brophy’s words. Her knees nearly gave way, but she refused to give the detective the satisfaction of seeing her melt down. She walked straight down the corridor to PACU.

  Tears threatened Riley’s eyes as the night flashed back. Olivia screaming at her…grabbing her arm, swinging Riley around and in her next breath, her beautiful cousin fell to the ground.

  All Riley wanted was to get away from Olivia. Why…why had Olivia followed her?

  It should have been her… Oh, God…it should have been her.

  Consciously, Riley recognized Olivia had been shot. Consciously, she realized she would be next. But she froze. Then, she was knocked down as the shot fired…wrapped in strong, protective arms.

  Kincaid had saved her and almost died.

  Riley made her way through the automatic double doors into the hospital unit. The room was quiet except for the noise of the heart monitor and quiet footsteps of the nurses.

  Everything around her seemed to melt away the moment her eyes met the man lying beneath a sterile white sheet. He smiled at her.

  Her stomach lurched. This was going to be harder than she ever imagined.

  Moving to the side of the bed, he reached out for her with his free hand. She gripped it and squeezed it tight.

  His hair disheveled against the pillow; dark beard stubble shaded his jaw. His left arm had been secured in place across his chest. His smile broadened.

  “I told you I would be fine.”

  Words choked in her throat. At a loss for what to say, silent tears fell as she caressed his face. He grasped hold of her hand and kissed it.

  “Mother confessed she gave you a har
d time. Please ignore her. She didn’t mean any of what I imagined she said.”

  Riley shook her head. She wanted to say that his mother meant every word. Riley didn’t blame her. She couldn’t argue with his mother. She had almost got Kincaid killed.

  It wasn’t how she would have wanted to meet his family. Hi, I’m the girl who almost got your son killed. If she was his girlfriend…

  Swallowing hard, she finally managed, “Your mother was understandably upset. I don’t hold anything against her.” She breathed out, attempting to regain hold of her welling emotions. Damn these tears. “I think I met your entire family. Your father. Miss Sally…Ethan…your mother.”

  “Dad told me. I wanted to ease you into meeting my family.”

  “They were fine…worried about you…we all were.”

  He grimaced. “It’s not me everyone should be worried about…it’s you. Have you any news?”

  She shook her head, deciding not to tell him about the protection detail. “None. Detectives are here asking questions, but if they have a suspect, they haven’t told me.”

  “I’ll talk to Cruz. She’ll know where they are at in their investigation, but tell me, Riley, are you okay?”

  Nodding, she forced a smile. “Fine…” She caught her breath. “I wouldn’t have been if…not for you…Josh…I don’t know what I would have done if…if…”

  “Don’t. Don’t go there.” He tried to sit up. Immediately, evident pain flashed over his face. He lay back down. “Stay here with me. I’ll arrange…”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. Finally, she had hold of her emotions. She shook her head. “No, there’s no need. I’m going to take care of it. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “What are you talking about, Riley? There’s a madman out there trying to kill you.” His voice filled with worry and aggravation. “What foolhardy plan do you have?”

  She lowered her eyes. Memories inundated her of their time together, brief though it was. One touch, one kiss, was all it took and she was his.

  There was no one to blame for her heartbreak. She should have never allowed it to happen. Now the time for the inevitable had come.

  Quick and to the point. Quick. She looked back up. “All of this is my fault.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Three innocent people have died. I have to find out if anything I’ve done facilitated all of this. I can’t do it from here…I can’t allow anyone else to die…especially you.”

  “Riley, what did you do…what are you doing?”

  “Saying good-bye,” she said simply. Leaning down, she gently kissed his lips. “When it’s over, I promise you will have your story.”

  He gripped her arm. “No, don’t do this. I will help you find what you’re looking for. Your father. You don’t believe he committed suicide. Right?”

  “It’s much more than that.” She forced a smile. “It’s better this way.”

  Pulling her down to him, he said in a low, firm voice, “Don’t play martyr because you love me.”

  Her heart jolted. She never dreamed he would remember her whispering those words before he was wheeled into surgery. He was unconscious…or so she thought. I’ve fallen hard for you, Josh Kincaid. You can’t leave me now. Not now.

  She had no response.

  “I will come out of this bed if you attempt to walk out that door, Riley Ashcroft,” he threatened. “Damn it, woman! Someone is trying to kill you!”

  “I can take care of myself. I’ve done it since I was fourteen.” She motioned to the nurse. “Mr. Kincaid is trying to get up. I’m afraid he will hurt himself.”

  “Damn it! Don’t touch me!” Kincaid swatted at the nurse, who hit a button on the wall behind the bed.

  Riley straightened herself up, watching another nurse and orderly swarm beside the bed. She continued to walk purposefully to the back of the unit and through a single door marked Exit.

  She rushed down the stairs and didn’t stop until she came to the first floor. As she entered into a busy hallway, she was confused momentarily. Doctors, nurses, medical personnel, along with visitors, raced by. Mass General was huge, but Riley quickly regained her bearings.

  With one turn to the right and two to the left, she was out the door. Glancing around, she saw no one and turned back to the street. Dennis was there.

  Quickly, she slid into the passenger door. “Thank you. Did you have any problems?”

  “Only Chloe. She just got up when I was leaving. She doesn’t know and I don’t have a clue how to tell her. I left her with Cora. We’re going to tell her together, the three of us: Walter, Cora, and myself.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Dennis. Sorry isn’t enough.”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault. You don’t even know if it had anything to do with you. Let the police handle it.”

  She was too tired to argue, emotionally exhausted. “Were you able to find everything?”

  “I think so. I packed a bag. Even got in touch with your friend. She said not to worry about Bailey. She would take care of her.” He put the car in drive. “Dad will meet you at the airport. He’s making all the arrangements now. Mom and he won’t come up until after you get settled.”

  “Thank you.” She sat back.

  Soon, she would be home. She wouldn’t be playing by their rules any longer. It would be a whole new game.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Brophy walked into Lincoln and Sullivan late Wednesday evening, determined to see Ellis Dean. Tired, drained, and frustrated, he had no warrant, no method of forcing a confrontation—only his resolve.

  He couldn’t find a connection with any of the Ashcrofts to a sharpshooter. From the beginning of this mess, he had been thwarted on every move by the team of lawyers from this place.

  In the growing group of people of interest, there weren’t any links of anyone with a knowledge of firearms. No sharpshooter from the army or law enforcement. Which led the detectives to one logical conclusion—someone hired a killer.

  Detective Logan had gone over the financial reports from each of the family members and immediate employees. They were looking for anything that would point to a payoff. Point them anywhere with a solid lead.

  “We need a forensic accountant,” Logan said. “I can’t make heads or tails out of these records. How can you tell if it’s a payoff when they pay three thousand dollars for a pair of shoes?”

  Three thousand for a pair of shoes. Seven thousand for a damn Löwchen dog. Ten thousand taken out for pocket change over the long holiday.

  How in the world were they supposed to see a red flag?

  The FBI seemed to be looking at an organized crime connection. Brophy wasn’t as certain they were looking for the same thing. His talk with Dunn hadn’t convinced him that Walter Ashcroft was behind the murders.

  Brophy was still convinced that Helen Barlow’s death was a crime of passion. The killer had expressed rage and anger in one moment; efficiency in his next.

  Walter Ashcroft didn’t seem that complicated. Arrogant. Conceited. Nor did he seem that intelligent. Brophy was coming to the conclusion that if Walter Ashcroft was behind the killings, there would be more of a trail to follow.

  The man wouldn’t have been able to help it.

  Unless someone was behind him, manipulating his every move.

  Was Walter Ashcroft merely a puppet on a string? But would he have done something so foolish as cause the death of his daughter? If he had known what was to happen, wouldn’t he have ensured that all his family was safe?

  But someone was pulling strings. Brophy had to figure out who and why. He believed that Ellis Dean held the key.

  For years, the man had shielded the family from prying eyes. Had he helped cover up their sins as well?

  Brophy got out on the twenty-fifth floor and walked up to the receptionist desk. The office had a museum-like quality: polished floors, leather furniture, and impressive art.

  “I woul
d like to see Mr. Ellis Dean.”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Dean is unavailable.” The pretty, young girl behind the desk smiled. “If you like, I can make an appointment.”

  “I don’t need an appointment.” He pulled out his badge. “Now, be a good girl and let Mr. Dean know Detective John Brophy is here.”

  Undaunted, she raised her hand slightly. “A moment, please.”

  The wait wasn’t long. A tall, distinguished man in an expensive suit walked in and greeted him, but it wasn’t Ellis Dean. He was an older gentleman, silver-haired, with gray eyes.

  The man shook Brophy’s hand with an open and pleasant demeanor. “Detective Brophy, I’m Henry Rosenberg. Partner here at Lincoln and Sullivan. What can I help you with today?”

  “I have some questions for Ellis Dean.”

  “You and everyone else today,” Rosenberg said. “Why don’t we talk in my office?”

  Brophy followed him into a large corner office. On any other day, he might have enjoyed the large, open layout with a breathtaking view of the Boston skyline.

  Rosenberg pointed to a chair. Rounding his desk, he sat. “Here, have a seat. Did Haley offer you some coffee, tea, or water?”

  “Not necessary. I won’t be long. I’m looking for some answers. I was hoping Mr. Dean could help.”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. Ellis hasn’t been here in days. I told the FBI as much when they were here earlier.”

  “FBI?”

  “They executed a search warrant. Took most of what was in his office.”

  Damn! Brophy took a breath. “Do you know if they have him?”

  The lawyer shook his head. “I don’t think so. I know they haven’t arrested him yet.”

  “Arrest Ellis Dean? On what charge?” Brophy asked, a little more than confused.

  “Charges. Extortion, fraud…money laundering were just a few,” Rosenberg answered, but didn’t elaborate.

  “In connection with a client of his? Walter Ashcroft?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve said too much already.” Rosenberg shook his head sorrowfully. “I can tell you Lincoln and Sullivan has terminated Mr. Dean’s employment as the Ashcrofts have terminated their association with our firm.”