The Providence Trilogy Bundle: Providence; Requiem; Eden

by McGuire, Jamie

  “Thanks,” I smiled.

  Bex nodded and then touched his sister’s shoulder. “Claire, I love you, but take a step back and think about this. Ryan is a cop. He’s investigating murders you committed. What do you think he’s going to do when you tell him you murdered his partner? You think he’s going to forgive you because he saw your eyes in the desert?”

  “The partner who orchestrated his kidnapping and ultimate demise,” Claire said. “Listen.” She sighed. “I know how it looks on paper. I may not be in love with Ryan, but he says he’s in love with me. If he listens to what I have to say and I approach it carefully, I think he could be an asset.”

  “We can’t take that chance,” Jared said, finality in his voice.

  Claire stood, her palms flat on the table. “You took the same chance when you told Nina, and she wasn’t even an asset! Her life has spun out of control since the second you revealed yourself to her, Jared. At least let me make my own decision, as you did!”

  Jared’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You were on me for months about Nina, Claire! How quickly you forget the hours I spent listening to your lectures on doing the right thing. Keep the secret. Keep the secret! That’s been your mantra for years!”

  Tears filled Claire’s eyes as her face turned red. “Coming from you!” she screamed. “You know what it’s like to have no one, and you know what it’s like to finally be free of the burden of what we are, to have someone else besides your mother or your brothers to confide in! I have no one, Jared! You’ve lived it, and you still deny me the liberation you insisted on?”

  Jared shifted in his seat, but I could see in his eyes he would not yield. Claire saw it too.

  “Go to hell!” she shrieked before storming out of the house. She slammed the door with such force that the surrounding painting and pictures on the wall fell from their nails and crashed to the floor.

  “You’re making a mistake,” I said, meeting Jared’s obstinate stare. “Claire, wait!” I yelled, hoping she would hear it before she sped away. I ran outside, stopping at the Lotus.

  Claire wiped her eyes. “Sorry. I cry when I’m mad.”

  “I do too,” I said, offering an apologetic smile.

  “He asked me to go to Anderson’s funeral.” Claire focused her eyes straight forward, too emotional to make eye contact.

  “Are you going?”

  “I couldn’t think of a good enough reason when he asked, but I shouldn’t. It’s wrong.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Claire’s ice blue eyes darted up in surprise. “You will?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “When?”

  “In an hour,” she said, attempting to mask her hopeful expression.

  I looked at my watch. “Okay. Give me a minute to get dressed.”

  Jared frowned as I slipped on a demure black dress. I sat down on the bed to pull up my black stockings, and he sat beside me.

  “This is inappropriate on so many levels,” he said.

  “Kind of like you sitting next to the reason your father lost his life on the night he died?” I said, slipping on my heels. Jared helped me with my coat, and then I poked a pearl earring into each of my ears. I turned, cupping his jaw with my hands. “Your point is justifiable, but it is her choice, Jared, just as it was yours. Trust Claire to make her own decision. She’s never let you down before.”

  “She’s never wanted to tell before.”

  “Then that’s your answer,” I said, kissing his soft, warm lips. His mouth lingered on mine, and then I pulled away, knowing Claire was anxiously waiting.

  I returned to the Lotus alone, slipping into the passenger seat. Claire pulled on her large, dark sunglasses and then shoved the gear into first, soaring down the drive, and fishtailing when she hit the street.

  Saints Peter and Paul Cathedral was surrounded by dozens of police cruisers and even more civilian vehicles. The line at the entrance was already backed up to the next block by sniffling mourners.

  “We should have come earlier,” I said.

  “We shouldn’t be here at all,” Claire said quietly. “Shit.”

  A knock on her window prompted Claire to roll it down, revealing Ryan in his dress blues. “You made it,” he said with a reserved grin. He opened the door for Claire and then jogged around the front of her car, opening the door for me. “Thanks for coming. It means a lot.”

  I simply nodded, walking behind Ryan as he escorted Claire to the front steps, bypassing the endless line of weeping friends and family. As we passed them, some recognized Ryan and shook his hand. Seeing him seemed to upset some of the women, and even some of the men fought back tears as Ryan traded quiet words during a short hug. Once they acknowledged Ryan, their expressions changed to curiosity, evaluating the small young lady in the black leather dress with pointed-toe stilettos.

  Each person we passed offered a pained expression for Ryan and then regarded Claire with bewilderment. Claire’s dress was long-sleeved, with a respectable crew-neck line. Her skirt was short but an inch longer than mid-thigh. Maybe it was her beauty that struck them or the black stilettos that shot up from the ground, turning into a slithering snake with a shiny, turquoise eye on the stainless steel heel of her shoe.

  The ensemble was something only Claire would dare wear to a funeral, but the look fit her. Ryan didn’t seem to mind. Before we reached the doorway, Ryan took Claire’s hand in his and led her down the aisle. She glanced back at me, unsure of how to react.

  We walked to the front of the sanctuary, seated behind the family, but on the first row of police officers who served with Kit Anderson. Ryan sat between Claire and me, making the situation even more uncomfortable. The pianist worked the keys, and a solemn song echoed throughout the church. Two rows ahead, in the center of the pew, two small children sat on each side of a woman. A man sitting in front of Claire reached forward to touch the woman’s shoulder. She patted his hand and then squeezed her young son closer.

  My fingers touched my lips. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “Yeah,” Ryan said, leaning into my ear. “That’s his wife and his two kids. His little girl is three. His son is seven.”

  I couldn’t hide the horror in my eyes as I looked to Claire. She was impervious, lowering her chin as a gesture for me to remain calm. Each second after that moment was an eternity: the eulogy, the service, and the songs. Once the prayer began, I scrambled from my seat, ignoring those I forced to stand or slide their legs over while I side-stepped to escape.

  The doors pushed open, and the brisk air in my lungs felt like the first time I’d breathed in over an hour. The railing was the only thing keeping me erect while I struggled to catch my breath.

  “Nina, Jesus!” Claire said. She grabbed my arm, steadying my weak knees. “You just ran—not walked—ran out of the funeral of a murdered Providence police officer! Why don’t you just tape a target to your back?”

  “He had babies! A family!” I cried.

  “You have a family too,” Claire said. “We just happen to have better aim.”

  “We should have talked to him, given him a chance to do the right thing.”

  Claire grabbed my shoulders. “Kit Anderson was a father and a husband, but if I hadn’t taken him out, he would have handed Ryan over to Donovan’s men, and Ryan would be dead right now.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Why would they need Ryan? If they wanted you, why not just come to you?”

  “Leverage and control,” Claire said. “It’s a way to hold me hostage when they know they could never hold me.”

  “Are you all right?” Ryan called, running down the steps to the sidewalk. He lifted my chin. “What happened back there, Nigh?” He looked to the church and then back to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I haven’t been to a funeral since Jack.”

  “Oh. Of course, I didn’t realize,” Ryan said, hugging me for a brief moment. “Maybe some food might make you feel better? Have you eaten?”

  “No, actually,” I said, jus
t realizing that fact.

  “The wives are cooking for the guys at the station and taking some food over to the family too. Let’s stop by there before you two head home.”

  “Nina has some things to do,” Claire said, slipping on her sunglasses.

  Ryan’s eyes met mine. His expression told me this was the moment of reparation.

  “I should eat,” I said.

  Even through her dark glasses, I could see Claire’s big eyes zero in on mine, an indication of the retribution I would receive once we were alone.

  Ryan’s smile spanned from one side of his face to the other. “Okay, then. You wanna ride with me?”

  “Yes,” I said without pause. If I was lucky, I could postpone my punishment until Jared was around. As much as I loved Claire, she was still intimidating.

  The ride to the North Providence Police Station was full of tension, although Ryan babbled like a nervous teenager on his first date. Few people had left the church by the time we’d arrived, but within the half-hour, the small space quickly overflowed.

  Ryan, Claire, and I retreated to a smaller room where the officers on duty were watching television and playing cards, and two in the corner were arm wrestling.

  “Scotty Dog!” one of the officers said. “Which one’s the ex and which one’s your date?”

  “Stow it, McCarty,” Ryan said. “Claire, Nina, this is Matt, and that’s Pat.” He gestured to the officer wrestling Matt’s hand to the table. Finally, Pat succeeded.

  “I was distracted!” Matt said.

  Ryan laughed. “You’re such a baby, McCarty. Take the loss like a man.”

  Matt tapped the table. “Come on, then, Scotty. Put your money where your mouth is.”

  Ryan watched Matt pull out a fifty-dollar bill, slamming it on the table. Claire’s body language was notably different. She raised her hand to her mouth, subtly trying to cover the slight grin that touched the corners of her mouth.

  Ryan saw Claire’s expression as well, prompting him to sit, and then roll up his sleeves. “Let’s do it.”

  Their hands and arms shook as they pushed against the other. Matt’s face was red, and a vein had popped out on his forehead like a pulsating worm slithering under his skin.

  “You gonna let the rookie beat you, McCarty?” Pat said, smiling at the spectacle.

  A few moments later, Ryan slammed Matt’s hand to the table. “Yeah!” he grunted, standing up in celebration.

  “Oh, brother,” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “I thought you invited us to lunch, not a pissing contest.”

  “You wanna stab at it?” Ryan asked, returning to his seat.

  Claire stiffened. She was competitive, and being forced to lose to Ryan to protect her identity was not something she would handle well.

  “Don’t do it,” I whispered.

  “I won’t be easy on you just because you’re a girl,” Ryan said.

  Matt laughed. “I don’t know. She’s got some eggs on her arms.”

  By the look on his face, Ryan knew exactly what he was doing. He had experienced her strength before, and he was going to test his theory.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, uninterested. “You’re still healing.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Then I’ll use the other arm. I’ll still beat you.”

  Claire sat in the open chair.

  “Claire, no,” I said.

  Ryan held up his hand and Claire took it. She lowered her chin, glaring into Ryan’s eyes.

  “She’s feisty,” Matt said, intrigued.

  “Shut up, McCarty,” Pat said.

  “Say, ‘Go,’ Nina,” Claire said.

  “This is stupid.” I said, attempting a last chance to avoid the only two products of their ridiculous stand-off—neither of them good.

  “Go!” Matt yelled.

  Their arms turned rigid, and then their hands began to tremble. I knew the shaking was on Ryan’s part; Claire looked bored.

  After fifteen seconds, the officers around the table began to harass Ryan. “I thought you said you wouldn’t go easy on her, Scotty Dog?” McCarty smirked.

  “Come on, Scotty. Quit foolin’ around,” Pat said.

  Ryan’s face turned several shades of red, and then beads of sweat formed on his brow.

  Claire raised an eyebrow and then pushed a bit, leaning Ryan’s hand closer to the table.

  McCarty laughed out loud. “She’s gonna beat him! Scotty’s gonna get beat by a girl!”

  Ryan took a deep breath and then pressed his lips together, holding his breath and straining so hard I thought he might pass out.

  Claire looked at Matt and then back at Ryan. She rolled her eyes, and the slight tension in her arm gave way. Ryan slammed her hand to the table.

  The officers all cheered, and Ryan stood, rubbing his arm.

  “You’re not serious,” Matt said, doubtful.

  Claire patted the empty table space in front of her and smiled. “Have a seat, sweet pea.”

  “This is bad, bad idea,” I said. “Claire, it’s time for us to go.”

  Matt put up his hand and Claire took it.

  I turned to Ryan. “Don’t let her do this. It’s going to draw attention.”

  “To what?” he asked, focused on my eyes.

  I recoiled from his stare. “Nothing.”

  “Go!” Pat said.

  Matt’s arm stiffened against Claire’s. Before long, his face was as red as Ryan’s had been just moments before.

  “Holy God, you’re strong!” Matt grunted.

  “Claire, please,” I said. “We have to go!”

  “Okay,” she said, slamming his hand to the table, immediately bringing it back to the start position. “Officers,” she nodded.

  It was hard not to sprint to the car. Jared’s reaction was at the forefront of my mind. “Stupid! That was so,” I wheeled around, stopping Claire in her tracks, “stupid!”

  Claire kissed my nose. “No, it was fun. Let’s go.”

  15. The Truth in Sixty Seconds

  Jared shut the curtains, allowing me to relax a bit. The morning sun hurt my eyes, and the ache in my head throbbed every time my heart beat. I turned another page of my textbook, trying to catch up to classmates who hadn’t missed the last two days.

  I pressed my fingers against the skin between my eyebrows. “The computer guy didn’t know what he was talking about,” I said. “I said simple. This laptop is impossible.”

  Jared rubbed my back. “Not impossible. You just have to adapt to change.”

  I slammed my book shut. “That’s all I do, Jared, adapt to change. The only thing that is constant is the fact that everything keeps changing.”

  Jared smiled, kissing my shoulder. “I’ll leave you alone to finish your paper, and then we’re going to get out of the house for a while.”

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, opening my book again.

  My eyes passed over the words, but nothing sunk in. Wedding plans, Kit Anderson’s children, Ryan being in danger, dead birds, and the whereabouts of the book danced around in my mind. Each thought lingered only for a few seconds, and then I flipped to the next one like the channels of late-night television. When I caught myself wandering from the topic of my paper, I would force my focus back to reality. Each time that happened, I grew more frustrated.

  Two hours and six pages later, I pulled on my boots and met Jared outside. The crisp air surrounded me as I walked down the drive, and I buttoned my coat to ward off the cold.

  The Escalade was left running so I wouldn’t have to shiver while the cab warmed to a tolerable temperature. Jared helped me inside with a smile, kissing my red nose before shutting the door, and then we made a new set of tracks down the street. The sky had dropped another six inches of snow on the ground, but only after a few hours of sleet had laid down a solid bed for the snow to stick to.

  Jared had no trouble navigating through the ice and powder, but red and blue lights lit the inside of the cab, and the Escalade came to a stop next to a nine-foot
snow drift.

  “Can’t he just call?” Jared said, gripping the steering wheel.

  Ryan knocked on the window, and Jared lowered it. Ryan began to speak, but Jared let his finger off the button, stopping the window halfway. Ryan waited patiently, and then Jared lowered the window again. When it was at chin level, Ryan addressed me, but Jared, once again, let his finger off the button.

  “Funny,” Ryan said. “Where’s Claire? I haven’t heard from her today.”

  “It’s possible she’s not going to pick up the phone every time you call, Ryan,” Jared said, amused.

  Ryan’s eyes focused on me. “Have you seen her?”

  “Not today. If she’s not answering, then she must be busy.”

  Jared sighed. “If you pull me over every time you can’t get Claire on the phone, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

  “I just . . .” He shook his head. “I just came across some information I wanted to share with her about the investigation.”

  “Like what?” Jared asked, annoyed but curious.

  Ryan narrowed his eyes. “Walter Graham was the man who tried to rob Nina outside the pub. Ronnie Studebaker, whose friends called him ‘Stu,’ was the man who stabbed me. Robert Benson was with them. They were never caught or charged.”

  “Yeah. So?” Jared said, impatiently.

  “They were all detectives of the Providence Police Department. Now they’re dead. Graham was killed while answering a robbery call, Benson stopped breathing in his sleep, and Stu went missing. His body has never been found. I can’t account for the fourth man involved in the attack.”

  “Do you have a point, Ryan?” Jared said.

  “Commissioner Johnson and six members of state government, in addition to seven police officers, have come to untimely deaths in the last eighteen months, including Kit Anderson. Graham was killed the same night twenty-three deaths were reported in Rhode Island and Massachusetts. All GSWs.”

  Jared laughed once. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Ryan.”

  “Exactly. How do you know this information unless you are responsible for forty-one deaths?”

  “Whoa! You are way off, Ryan,” I said, shocked at his conclusion.