Silent Rescue

by Melinda Di Lorenzo

  That wasn’t where the familiarity came from, though. Mentally, he added some years to the teen’s face, trying to bring the image up to present day.

  A few lines in the forehead, a touch of premature gray...

  Brooks just about dropped the picture as he clued in.

  “Crap!”

  The frame slipped between his fingers, and he fumbled to keep it in his grasp. He secured it and lifted it up again. Yeah, there was no doubt about who the guy was. Sure that he was right, he set it back on the mantel. Then he thought better of putting it back. He grabbed it again and turned to stride up the hall after Maryse.

  Chapter 13

  Brooks pushed open the bedroom door, then stopped in the doorway, his brain ceasing to work as he caught sight of Maryse. She stood inside the tiny room, beside the bed in a state of near complete undress. Her long, well-muscled legs were bare, every creamy inch in view. A pair of black satin panties left nothing to the imagination. Brooks forced his eyes up from the smooth, tempting curve of her hip. Dragging his gaze up was worse. She was topless. The swell of her breasts was on full display. And though she held her bra in her hands, she seemed as frozen as he was, her only movement a slow, stunned blink. It was impossible to look away. Even more impossible not to drink her in. She was hands down the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  Renewed desire coursed through Brooks, and as the heat filled him, his body came back to life. Suddenly he wasn’t frozen. Instead, he had to work to keep still. It required serious effort to fight the urge to stride across the room so he could take her in his arms and lay her down on the bed.

  Time constraint be damned.

  He balled his fist in an attempt to keep from reaching for her.

  Finally, she drew in a breath—one that made her quiver visibly—and lifted the skimpy fabric in her hands to her chest.

  “Just thought I’d change,” she said in barely more than a whisper.

  Brooks ran his eyes over her again. “It’s warm in Vegas. But not that warm.”

  With a pretty blush creeping across her chest, she slid the bra into place. As she fastened the clasp without looking, he decided that the effect was no less alluring. Yeah, he wanted to pull it all off, but the contrast of the black satin against her porcelain skin had an undeniable appeal just as it was.

  She stared back at him for a second, then shot an awkward look over his shoulder. “My stuff...”

  “Sorry.”

  He stepped to the side, and she moved forward. There still wasn’t room for her to get by. Brooks knew he should probably leave the room. Except he couldn’t. Even when her bare arm brushed his elbow, and she stopped and cleared her throat, he felt the need to stay.

  She met his eyes and gestured to a spot behind him. “Could you...?”

  He turned sideways and spied a stack of clothes on the dresser. “Oh. Yeah.”

  He grabbed them and handed them over, then watched as Maryse slid into the pale yellow T-shirt and jeans. He was torn between appreciating the way the clothes hugged her body and wishing he could still see her in entirety.

  “The room’s a little small,” she said apologetically. “It was a den before I got ahold of it. I gave the real bedroom to Camille.”

  “It’s cozy.”

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “Sure. If you’re a munchkin,” she joked, then reached up and undid the still-tight bun she’d somehow managed to keep fastened.

  Brooks realized it was the first time he’d seen the cascade of brunette waves truly free. It tumbled over her shoulder in a way that made him wonder what it would look like spread across his sheets. His gaze drifted to her bed, seeking the plush white pillow tucked just under the blanket. The mere thought of the sharp contrast made his mouth dry.

  “I think I’m ready,” she said, drawing his attention back to where it should be.

  She’d pulled her hair up again, this time into a less severe ponytail. She tossed it over her shoulder, then bent down and zipped up the suitcase that sat in the middle of the bed.

  “Sorry if I was taking too long,” she added as she straightened up. “It’s been so long since I went anywhere that I wasn’t sure what to pack, and I stuck a few of Camille’s things in before I started getting my own.”

  He waved off her apology. “You’re fine.”

  She smiled. “If I was fine, you wouldn’t be here, rushing me.”

  The photograph slipped back to the surface of his mind. “I didn’t come here to make you hurry up. I came to ask you about your brother.”

  “My brother? Okay. What would you like to know?”

  “What was his name, sweetheart?”

  “Jean-Paul Kline.”

  “Did he ever go by another one?”

  “Like, an official alias? I don’t know. But I’m sure he didn’t always give out his full credentials when he was running scams.”

  Brooks reached around her to grab the suitcase. “C’mon. We can talk and move.”

  Together, they made their way from the bedroom to the front hall, then out to the car. Brooks waited until they’d turned down the driveway before he pursued his questions again.

  “There was a picture on your mantel,” he said. “Two teenagers standing in front of a big brick building.”

  “Right. That’s me and Jean-Paul. It was the day he graduated high school. He was eighteen and I was sixteen. That was right before things started to get really rough for him. Why are you asking about it?”

  “Does the name Elias Franco mean anything to you?”

  She shook her head. “Should it?”

  “It was the name of one of my confidential informants. And not just any CI... This is the guy who first brought Nank to my attention.”

  “Okay.”

  Her lips were pursed thoughtfully, and he knew she was considering his words carefully, thinking them through and connecting them to their current situation.

  “You think Elias and my brother were the same man,” she said after a second.

  “I know they were,” Brooks replied. “About eight years ago, this guy—the same one in your photo—came to me at the precinct. I can’t even remember how I wound up at the desk with him. I was still pretty fresh to the detective gig, so maybe someone thought what he had to say wasn’t important and just passed him along.”

  Brooks paused, remembering how Franco had looked. Nervous enough that he could’ve easily been mistaken as high. But something about him reeked of genuine fear, and when he said he’d deliberately come from Las Vegas into Rain Falls to avoid being seen, Brooks had given him the benefit of the doubt.

  “But you did listen?” Maryse prodded.

  “Sure did,” Brooks agreed. “And he told me he’d been trying to get out of the game for a while, but kept getting sucked back in, a little deeper each time. A few months earlier, he’d been recruited to do a job for a company called People With Paper.”

  “Yes. That’s where he was working when he was killed.”

  “Right. As a security guard. But it turned out the job was under a man named Caleb Nank—like I said, it was the first I’d heard of the guy—and the security position was far darker than he thought. He said the company was a front for a whole bunch of illegal activity. One thing led to another, and the next thing he knew, he was too far in to get out. But he wanted to walk away, and he was willing to tell us what he knew in exchange for a guarantee of protection.”

  “And you accepted his offer?”

  Brooks nodded. “Yep. Not right away, though. Vetted his story first. Got permission from my captain and the one over at the Vegas detachment to pursue the case. At the time, Nank was a complete unknown. Still looked like a legitimate businessman from the outside. Elias—Jean-Paul, I mean—was quickly able
to prove that it really was just a front.”

  “But you couldn’t link anything to Nank directly. Like you said before.”

  “That’s right. We busted his guys for small stuff. Possession with intent. Solicitation. Not one of them would turn on Nank, though. Never saw the guy in person, and all his lackeys said the same thing. They’d rather face time in jail. We spent months trying to build a case. Trying to find a crack. Came up dry every time.”

  “And my brother?”

  “He said that what Nank’s guys really meant was that they’d do anything to avoid facing their boss. They all owed him something. And the only way they would help us out was if they were like him and found something that was more important than fulfilling the debt. He never told me what it was that he owed Nank himself, but I could hazard a pretty good guess on what it was that he thought was more important.”

  “Camille,” Maryse filled in.

  “The dates line up,” Brooks said. “He worked for me for a little over thirteen months, so it makes sense that he might’ve come in right around the time he found out he was going to be a father. And from what you told me about family being the only thing he valued, I’d say that could definitely be his motivation for wanting to turn his life around.”

  “Brooks...” She spoke without looking at him, her voice even. “Do you think Nank found out that he’d become an informant and had him killed?”

  There was no point in lying. “It’s a strong possibility, sweetheart.”

  “Did you know?”

  “That he died? No. Sometimes, CIs change their minds and disappear. And since we never actually charged him with any crimes, we had no reason to chase him down.”

  “What about the fire that killed him?”

  Brooks’s heart ached at the small, sad-sounding question, but he still answered honestly. “I heard about the fire itself. But it wasn’t in my jurisdiction and it was never connected to Nank, who was my main focus. The reports all stated that the arsonist perished in the fire and I never looked into the details. Never saw a picture or thought it might have something to do with my case.”

  “It’s probably what Nank wanted.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Maryse went silent, staring out the windshield as he navigated the car through the countryside. The flat white scenery flashed by quickly, matching the somber mood. Brooks wished he had comforting words to offer, but nothing he said would change the past. He cast a glance toward her. Her expression was unreadable. Was she relieved to hear that her brother had been on the right side? Or angry that his police involvement was likely what got him killed? It was impossible to say what she was thinking.

  But a moment later, she spoke, and her tone was anything but neutral.

  * * *

  “I hate him.” Maryse spit out the words with a vehemence that surprised her. “I don’t know Caleb Nank. You could put two men in a room and I couldn’t tell you which one he was. But he ruined my brother’s life, then killed him and blamed his death on Jean-Paul himself. He destroyed that piece of my family. Maybe I love Camille more fiercely because of that, I don’t know. But now he’s trying to take her for some perceived debt, and I can’t wrap my head around the cruelty. I hate him, Brooks.”

  The big policeman didn’t balk at her impassioned speech. “I’ve been chasing the man for eight years, sweetheart. Dead ends every time. And I normally try to keep my personal feelings out of my cases, but with this one...good cops have been killed trying to pin him down. And now all this. I’m not ashamed to say that I hate him, too. Probably why my boss finally put some distance between me and the case.”

  Maryse took a steadying breath. It felt good to release the emotion; it felt even better to have Brooks share it.

  “Tell me what made him send you out here,” she said.

  “You sure you want to hear about it right now?”

  “I could use the distraction.”

  He shot her a glance and a nod, and Maryse was glad to listen as he launched into an explanation. “Rain Falls was thinking about passing off the case. Back to the main station at Vegas, where it belonged. We’re all part of LVMPD, but technically they’re closer to everything that happened. My boss apparently informed everyone but me that it was his plan to hand the reins back over to them. And he was right to worry about my reaction. We’d just got someone on the inside again, so when I caught wind of what was happening, I was more than angry. Blew up in front of half the station and stormed out. What I didn’t realize was that the captain’s favorite rookie—who was also working for me—was listening. And what neither the captain nor I realized was that the same rookie was directly involved with our new CI.”

  Maryse could see the guilt-ridden pinch of his mouth. “You couldn’t have known.”

  “I should have known. Kept better tabs on the kid.” Brooks shook his head. “When Parler—the rookie—realized the girl wasn’t going to be ours anymore, he freaked. Scared he couldn’t keep her safe. He ran straight to her. I’m guessing he wanted to pull her out completely.”

  “You’re guessing?”

  “We never got a chance to ask him. Two days later, Parler and the girl were found dead in the girl’s apartment. Shot.”

  “Nank?”

  “No doubt. But the case was run as an open and shut. The gun was left at the scene. Fingerprints on it belonged to a known felon. He’d had ties to Nank in the past, and even though he claimed he’d gone straight and said he’d been framed, the guy still wouldn’t say a word against his former boss.”

  “But it’s not your fault, Brooks.”

  His hands flexed on the steering wheel. “The rookie was my responsibility. The girl was my informant. I should’ve seen what was going on, but I didn’t. I should’ve kept my temper under control, but I didn’t. All the things I should’ve done...but didn’t. And two people died as a result.”

  Maryse reached out and placed her hand on his tense forearm and said again, “That’s not your fault. It’s sad, but it’s not something you should take the blame for. The rookie should’ve known better. The girl must’ve been aware of the risk. And if you lost your temper, it’s because you’re passionate about doing your job. That’s not something you should be punished for.”

  The big man exhaled. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself for months. Or trying to. Told my boss, too. For all the good it did.”

  She studied his face for a second. “Did you believe it, when you told him?”

  “What?”

  “You said you were trying to tell yourself that it wasn’t your fault. Like you needed to convince yourself. Maybe your boss didn’t believe that you believed it. Maybe he sent you away to gain some perspective.”

  “You’re saying he might actually have believed that it wasn’t my fault.” Brooks frowned so hard that Maryse knew he hadn’t considered the idea before.

  “You don’t think it’s a possibility?” she asked.

  “It’s been...” He paused, then turned his hazel eyes her way for such a long second that she was surprised he didn’t run them right off the road.

  “It’s been what?”

  He turned away and replied in a rough voice. “It’s been killing me. Thinking about what a waste of life it was. About how—even if it was the smallest chance in the world—I could’ve prevented the loss. So, no. I guess I didn’t really believe it wasn’t my fault. Logic and emotion don’t mix well, do they?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me say it aloud.”

  He looked so relieved that she almost laughed.

  “That’s it?” she said. “You admit that you’ve been blaming yourself for this, and now you can move on?”

  “No. But I feel a hell of a lot better.” He
smiled for a second, then frowned again. “As far as the captain’s concerned, though... I just keep coming back to the idea that it’s too much of a coincidence that he picked this spot.”

  “Well. What reason did he give you for choosing Laval?”

  “Told me he wanted to send me to the coldest hell he could think of. Then he slapped down the one-way ticket and the rental agreement for the apartment. Made me pretty mad.”

  Maryse thought about it for a second, puzzling over whether or not the forced vacation could be a cover. And if so, what was it a cover for? She could only think of one thing.

  “If it wasn’t a legitimate punishment,” she said slowly, “then your boss must’ve known Nank’s activities had crossed the border and sent you up to follow him.”

  Brooks nodded. “And it begs the question of why he didn’t tell me. Because he could’ve sent me up here legitimately. Made the arrangements for cross-border jurisdiction. He sure as hell wasn’t in a hurry. I’ve been in Laval for eight weeks already. So I have to wonder what he hoped would happen.”

  “Maybe he wasn’t sure he was right.”

  “I don’t know. It’d be a pretty gutsy financial move if he wasn’t sure.”

  “Did he use police money to bring you here?”

  “The opposite. He forcibly dipped into my banked hours to fund this trip. Told me I was lucky he wasn’t docking my pay, then made me cash in every vacation hour I had. Called it paid leave. But if he’d used police funds, he’d be accountable.”

  “Is he even allowed to do that?”

  “No. Well, we’re required by our union to use our banked hours and vacation by the end of each year, so I guess he could use the excuse that he thought I wouldn’t and he was being proactive. Pretty sure he was just doing his usual things and strong-arming his way into getting what he wants.”

  Something in his tone made her heart skip a nervous beat. “What are you thinking? That he might be corrupt?”

  “If you’d asked me a few months ago, I would’ve said no way. Hell, if you’d asked me a few hours ago, I would’ve said it. He has his own way of doing things. Bends rules left, right and center. Always in the name of bringing down the bad guy, though. But right now, I have to consider the possibility that he’s not. It stinks of a cover-up.”