Oath of Honor

by Lynette Eason

  In the meantime, while she knew the detectives working Kevin’s case were putting everything they had into it, she had to do something. As much as she understood and knew that Kevin’s death wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t help listening to that voice that wanted to question her actions the night he was killed. Finding his killer would go a long way toward shutting that voice up.

  After a quick shower and dressing, she walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bagel and some cream cheese, and carried it to the table. She prepared her bagel and took a bite, then opened the email Derek had sent her with the list of what he’d first thought were dirty cops. Studying the names didn’t help any more than it had the first ten times she’d looked at them. She picked up her phone to text Chloe and noticed a text from Ryan. She’d missed it last night.

  Meeting Lee at 9:00 to look over pictures from charity event. You in?

  Of course she was in.

  Where?

  His answer came fast, as though he’d been waiting for her to respond. He was up early too. She wondered if he was getting any sleep at all. She recognized the coffee shop.

  I need a ride. Chloe brought me home, remember?

  Be ready at 8:30.

  Will do.

  Izzy stood and walked to the window. The police cruiser that had followed them home last night still sat in its designated spot.

  So, if Hulk knew she didn’t have the phone anymore, was she still a target? It didn’t really matter. It wouldn’t stop her from doing what she needed to do to hunt down Kevin’s killer, and it wouldn’t keep her from doing her job. Although, if innocent people were going to be hurt because of her, she’d have to rethink some things, of course.

  Like working alone. For the next two hours, she cleaned Chloe’s house, raided her sister’s closet for something to wear, and at 8:00, called Mrs. Spade to check on her.

  “I’m fine, honey. I’m glad you are too. That was a scary thing.”

  “Very scary, but I’m thankful to be alive.”

  “I’m sure. The good news is, I should be back inside my half of the duplex sometime next week. I didn’t have nearly the damage you did.”

  “I’m so glad you were spared that. Let me know what the deductible is and I’ll take care of it.”

  They chatted a few more minutes and Izzy hung up to go get ready.

  Her phone buzzed and she lifted a brow while she answered. “Hi, Mom.”

  “I’m checking on you. How are you doing?”

  “I’ve had better weeks.”

  “Haven’t we all?” A pause. “Have you heard from Derek this morning? I’ve been texting him for about an hour and haven’t gotten a response.”

  This time Izzy hesitated. “No.”

  “He’s not answering my texts or calls, and he managed to avoid me getting him alone to talk yesterday at lunch.”

  “You said he was on leave. Maybe he thinks he doesn’t have to talk to you until he’s back on official duty.”

  “I’m also his mother.”

  “He’s also a grown man.”

  A huff came through the line. “I don’t like it. I should have just cornered him yesterday. If you talk to him, tell him to call me, okay?”

  “Of course. And Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “What are you going to do if he loses?” She didn’t have to specify who she was talking about.

  Her mother went quiet for a moment. “What makes you think he’ll lose?”

  “Mom, seriously? What is there to make me think he’ll win?”

  “You’ve noticed that, have you?”

  “Of course I’ve noticed it. I’d have to be oblivious not to.”

  “Good.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been asked, unofficially, of course, to stay on as chief of police even if Melissa Endicott wins the election.”

  “But will you?”

  “For a while. I’ll see what it’s like to work with her.”

  Izzy nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. “She’s going to win, isn’t she?”

  “Probably. If the polls are anything to count on. She’s saying some good things, making significant promises. If she wins, it might not be a bad thing—if she can—and will—follow through on them.”

  “But what about Eric? Mayor Cotterill? Why hasn’t he done more campaigning? Why hasn’t he stood up to her? It’s like he wants to throw the election.”

  Silence echoed back at her. “That’s a very good observation.”

  Izzy’s jaw dropped. She snapped it shut. “Mom, I wasn’t serious.”

  “I know, but if you’re noticing, other people are too. Let’s keep this conversation just between us for now, okay?”

  “Um … okay.” Izzy frowned. What in the world?

  “Get some rest, Izzy, I’ll check on you again soon.”

  “Okay, thanks. Talk to you later.”

  Just as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, her phone rang again. This time it was her dad. “Hi, Dad.”

  After assuring him she was fine and taking it easy, she walked into Chloe’s den to watch for Ryan.

  Ryan had finished off the eggs, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns his mother had fixed this morning and noted that while sadness and grief still lingered in her eyes, the vacant stare that had him so worried was gone.

  However, she’d attached herself to Ryan like a barnacle, and he had to remind himself that he needed to have patience like no other time in his life.

  His phone buzzed. Izzy texting him.

  I’m ready.

  Patience.

  I have none.

  I know the feeling. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Exactly when I said I’d be there. LOL.

  I know. I’m just antsy.

  I get it. I’ll leave now.

  Ryan stood and carried his plate to the sink, then headed for the den to retrieve his car keys from the hook near the door.

  “Ryan?” his mother called.

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To pick up Izzy and we’re going to meet some people to talk about the case, okay?”

  “Oh. All right then.”

  Ryan gave a slight sigh, then went to his mother and wrapped her in a hug. “I love you, Mom.”

  A wobbly smile curved her lips and she patted his cheek. “I know. I’m being a pain. Go. Do what you need to do.”

  “You’re not a pain, Mom. Never that, okay?”

  She gave him a teary nod and he held her for another thirty seconds before she patted him on his shoulder. “You can go now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Well, I would prefer to do this the rest of the day, but you have a job to do. Go do it.”

  He looked her in the eye. “You’re going to be okay. We are all going to be okay.”

  Another nod. “I know. One day.”

  “You’re strong.”

  “Not strong enough to lose another child, Ryan. Please remember that.”

  “Every second of every day. I promise.”

  “Okay then.”

  She let him go and he sent a text to Charice and Lee that he was on his way to pick up Izzy. They’d see them at the coffee shop shortly after 9:00. His next text was to Izzy, to tell her to exit the house via the garage. She’d understand why. A garage was more cover, which meant less of a chance of a sniper getting her.

  Ryan pulled to a stop in Chloe’s garage and Izzy climbed into his SUV. Once he was backed out, she hit the button on the remote Chloe had loaned her then slipped it in her purse. “I’m really praying this pans out.”

  “I am too. This investigation seems to be going nowhere fast. There’s no way that Bianchi can just disappear like this. There has to be a way to track him, an associate who’s willing to turn on him. Something.”

  “You would think.”

  “And your CI hasn’t called you back?”

  “No.”

  It didn’t take long to get to the coffee shop and park. “See
anything that makes your nerves jangle?” he asked.

  “No, and I’ve been watching.”

  “Me too.”

  “All right, then, let’s do this.”

  “They’re all the way in the back. Charice got that alcove that’s like a little room.”

  Together, they exited the SUV and entered the coffee shop. About halfway through the diner, Izzy’s eyes fell on Charice. The man with her must be Lee Filmore, Chris’s friend. Ryan’s hand settled on her lower back and Izzy’s heart skipped a beat.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Really? The heat in her cheeks said, “Yeah, really.” She focused on the chair Lee held out for her and sat. Then clasped her hands in front of her. Since when did Ryan start having such a crazy effect on her pulse? It was silly. Weird.

  And kind of nice.

  “Glad you all could make it,” Charice said. “We got here a little early, so I let him get started.” Charice had a laptop open. Lee and Ryan shook hands.

  “Good to see you again,” Ryan said. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Not a problem. Anything I can do to help.” He went back to the laptop.

  23

  Charice caught his eye. “How’s everyone holding up?”

  “Holding. Sad. Grieving.”

  Her hand covered his. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  “Here,” Lee said, looking up and turning the laptop to face Charice. “Reuben Yarborough.”

  Ryan studied the picture of the three men dressed in suits and ties, talking off to the side. They didn’t even realize the photographer had captured the moment.

  “Who’s that?” Izzy asked.

  “He was in Chris’s unit,” Ryan said, not taking his eyes from Lee. “Your unit.”

  “Yeah. He was also at the banquet that night. When you asked me about it earlier, I’d forgotten he was there, however, so were several other guys I knew. But Reuben’s the only other one from the unit who knew what Chris was up to.”

  “So he knew about the warehouse owned by Jonathan Gill.”

  “Sure. I knew about it too. He and Chris were making plans to turn it into a home for homeless vets.”

  Ryan scraped a hand through his hair. “Apparently, everyone knew about it but his family.”

  Lee’s gaze hardened and held Ryan’s. “We were his family.”

  Ryan stilled. “Yeah. Yes, you were. And I mean, we all knew how passionate he was about helping homeless vets, but not that he’d bought the warehouse with plans to develop it.” He fell silent for a moment thinking about it. How he missed his brother. Both of them. “So, what happened to Yarborough?”

  With a shake of his head, Lee leaned back. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him since I got back.”

  “Then tell me what happened the last time you saw him.”

  Charice started typing on the laptop, her fingers flying, while Lee took a deep breath. “The day we were supposed to leave, Reuben had a horrible attack of food poisoning or a virus and couldn’t make the trip.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know this, but Chris had a price on his head.”

  Ryan reared back. “What?”

  “A few months back, we’d been involved in a raid that resulted in the death of the son of a very powerful, very wealthy man in Afghanistan. Amir Nuristani. Chris pulled the trigger. Apparently, there was some security footage of the raid. Nuristani got his hands on it, saw Chris was the one who killed his son, and ordered the hit.”

  “Which wound up being your convoy.”

  “Yes.”

  “How’d you survive?”

  Lee closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know. Everything went black when we were hit. We had another MRAP following us. From what I understand, they were able to return fire and get to us. I woke up in a hospital. Spent a week there, then they shipped me to Germany, then home where I spent six months recovering.” He crossed his arms. “I heard Nuristani took credit for the hit.”

  “How’d he know where you were going to be?”

  Lee shrugged. “I have my theories.”

  “Someone sold you out.”

  “That’s one of them.”

  “You think Reuben could have been behind it?”

  Biting his lip, Lee looked away. “I … don’t know. Once I learned the attack was orchestrated by Nuristani, I knew it sure wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t the first time he went after Chris. And he kept raising the price on Chris’s head. All the way up to two million dollars.”

  Ryan blinked. Izzy gasped.

  “Wow. That’s a lot of incentive,” Charice muttered.

  “No kidding. I also learned that someone let him know where we were going to be and what time … and that could only have been someone close to us. And Yarborough was having a tough time financially.” He rubbed his eyes. “His dad died a few months before and he had to come home for the funeral, and then as soon as he got back from that, he got word of his wife’s diagnosis of breast cancer.”

  “That’s tough.”

  Lee sighed. “He should have requested an early discharge due to his whole family situation but said he couldn’t afford to.”

  “So, he needed money.”

  Lee gave a short laugh. “A lot of guys needed money.”

  “Just track with me here. What if he was the one who sold Chris out?”

  Lee shook his head. “I hate to say I thought about it.”

  “You didn’t look into it?”

  “No. I … didn’t want to believe that Yarborough, someone I loved like a brother, could do that.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “She died just a few months after I got back. I was in rehab so couldn’t make the funeral. I tried to call him, but was never able to reach him and he didn’t return my calls. I haven’t seen him since the day Chris died. I just dropped it. Figured it was too painful for him to stay connected with me or something.”

  Or something. “It’s awfully convenient that Yarborough got sick when he did,” Ryan said.

  “I’ve thought about that and wondered about it myself.” He shook his head. “But I was there with him while he was puking his guts out. I held his head a couple of times. No one is that good of an actor or could fake that. He was violently, terribly sick. To the point I hid his weapon.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah. We were all waiting to see if he’d turn a corner and be able to ride to the airport, but it soon became apparent that his illness was going to last a while and if we waited much longer, we’d miss our flight. Finally, in between episodes of vomiting, he just waved a hand and said for the rest of us to get out of there. The medic was with him and promised to look out for him, so we left him in good hands. Then we hit the IED and that was that.” He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Some days I wish I’d stayed with him.”

  Charice looked up. “Reuben Yarborough arrived home three days after your convoy was hit.”

  “That’s what I heard. His wife was dying.”

  “So … where’s Reuben now?” Izzy asked.

  Charice scrolled. “Uh … looks like he bought a place on Lake Murray.”

  “Whoa,” Lee said. “Those houses aren’t cheap.”

  “No, they’re not.” Ryan rubbed his chin. “And someone who’s struggling financially doesn’t have the means to buy one. I think we need to dig a little deeper into his activities since he’s been home. The fact that he came home three days after Chris died and never went back …”

  Lee shook his head. “How much did he pay for the house?”

  Charice clicked a few more keys. “A little over half a mil.”

  Gray eyes met his. “So he couldn’t afford to take an early discharge to be with his family during his father’s illness and death—and he couldn’t afford to be with his wife during her chemo treatments—but he could afford that for a house …” Lee leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Where’d he get the money?”

  “I don’t know,” Charice said. �
�I sent David an email asking him to look into Reuben’s financials, but we need a warrant. He’s working on that for us.”

  “And the sale of the warehouse?” Lee asked.

  “Showing as belonging to what we suspect is a dummy corporation, but the fact that we have Tony Bianchi on video and doing deals there … well, let’s just say I’ve got my theories about it all.” He shrugged. “We’ve got the forensic accounting guys still working on tracing it back to an actual person, but if cash was involved again …”

  “Tell me your theories,” Lee said.

  “Just one, really. Reuben sold Chris out, faked his illness—or did something to make himself sick—so he wouldn’t be on that MRAP when it hit the IED, and he got the money for his traitorous actions. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Guess we can ask him,” Charice said. “But the warehouse … how would someone be able to sell it?”

  “The seller would need the deed for that,” Lee said. “How would he be able to get his hands on that?”

  Ryan frowned. “That one has me a little puzzled. Were Reuben and Jonathan close friends?”

  Lee shrugged. “Not really. I mean, they knew each other and seemed to be headed toward a strong friendship because they had a lot in common, but at the time, they were in the beginning stages of that friendship.”

  “That would explain why Jonathan’s mother couldn’t remember Reuben’s name and she’d never met him before that weekend—or seen him since.”

  “Jonathan was a pretty private guy. It’s possible that he just never introduced them—or had the opportunity to before that weekend. Does your mother know everybody you interact with or are friends with?”

  Ryan laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head while he leaned back and studied the ceiling. “True. And no. Not even close. How did Chris and Jonathan meet?”

  “Believe it or not, Reuben and Jonathan met at the gym when they were both on leave and started hanging out. Reuben introduced Chris to Jonathan because they had a lot of the same interests—like helping veterans. Which is what they were going to use the warehouse for.”

  Still looking at the ceiling, Ryan said, “Tell me about that.”

  “They were going to convert it into a shelter for them. Mostly targeting those who’re homeless. Someplace they could come get three squares and a bed at night. They paid cash for the place, but were going to start seeing if we could raise the funds to do a complete overhaul of the inside. You know, put in a kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, all of that. They also wanted to provide jobs. Everyone who worked there would be a veteran.”