The Hill
Page 18
“I don’t think so, and that’s probably what saved me. If I’d been drugged and then packaged into that limo right away, I probably would’ve passed out before I knew what hit me. Instead we walked outside. The cool air combated some of the effects of the drug.”
“If you hadn’t acted so quickly, who knows where I’d be right now? Who knows where you’d be?”
“I should’ve realized something was up when that club soda left a funny taste in my mouth.” He loosened the cloak at her throat. “Distracted. I’m too damned distracted to do my job.”
“Stop.” She slapped at his hands. “You saved me again. If that’s you distracted, then I’m not sure I could handle your intensity undistracted.”
He opened the cloak and she shrugged out of it. He draped it over the arm of the couch. “Is that poor woman ever going to get her cape back?”
“After I dry-clean it.” She flicked the straps of her dress off her shoulders. “Are we going to call the police and report the limo driver?”
“Did you get his name? License number of the car? What exactly are we going to report? He picked us up and was driving us home.”
“Y-you were drugged?”
“And how do I prove that? I’m telling you, it was codeine, a common enough drug.”
Sighing, she hooked her little finger in the strap of her shoe and pulled it off her foot. “Were you clearheaded enough to hear what our ex-con had to say?”
“I heard, I comprehended the words, but I haven’t been able to get my head around them yet.”
“He said the shooting of your father’s partner was planned, and someone intended the same fate for your dad, too.”
“But Otis missed, so someone set my father up to take the fall for those murders to get him out of the way or shut him up.”
“That’s the gist of it—and it worked.”
“But shut him up about what? Did the guy mention that?”
“He didn’t know. Otis didn’t know, but when all that stuff started coming down on Joey Brody, Otis figured it was part of the same plan he’d been involved with.”
“It’s crazy.” Judd pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “I need to tell my brothers.”
“My father knew.”
Judd opened one eye. “Knew what?”
“He knew about the setup of your father and his partner. That’s how he knew Joey Brody was innocent.”
“Do you know what you’re saying?”
“My father was a tough businessman. As far as I know, he was an ethical one, but somehow, some way, he had knowledge of what went down twenty years ago.”
“And someone doesn’t want you to find out what that was.”
“That’s it, Judd.” She sat up, curling her legs beneath her. “There’s someone worried about exposure—the murder of a cop, the obstruction of a police investigation of a serial killer, the planting of evidence.”
“Driving of another cop to suicide.”
“Do you think he knew? Do you think your father realized what was going on?”
“If he did, why didn’t he just expose the perpetrators? Why jump off a bridge?” He smacked a fist into his palm.
“I don’t know, but maybe once we find the proof, you can get some answers. Someone is trying very hard to protect the lies of the past.”
“Who has the most to lose? Richard Taylor has been with your father from the beginning, hasn’t he?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’d like to have a look at your father’s computer. If he went to such great lengths to hide it, there has to be a good reason.” Judd peeled off his jacket and dropped it onto the chair.
London sucked in her bottom lip. Her father hadn’t hid his laptop because of those pictures, unless he’d wanted to hide the pictures from her. No. He’d told her the location of the laptop, showed her how to get to it.
Through half-closed eyes, she watched Judd strip down to his undershirt and slacks. She didn’t need to keep secrets from him. Showing him the pictures on her father’s laptop might be the perfect way to tell him. If he judged her and she lost him...well, she’d never had him anyway.
Nobody owned Judd Brody and nobody ever would. He’d do as he pleased. Even now he preferred to call in his brothers rather than put forth an effort for a father he’d dismissed as weak.
Would he dismiss her as weak, too?
“Yeah, we’ll look at his computer tomorrow. Like I said, I brought it back to the office, thought it might be safer there with all the stuff going on in this building.”
He slid behind her, pulling her back between his legs. Then he kissed her neck. “We’ll hit the real estate office first, and then go to your office for the laptop.”
The warmth from the fire on her face and the warmth from his kisses on the nape of her neck soaked through the rest her body, and she felt as drugged as if someone had spiked her drink, too.
She curled her arms around his legs and rubbed her hands along the insides of his thighs, crumpling the smooth material of his slacks.
His legs tightened around her and his hands slipped beneath her low-cut dress to cup her breasts. When his thumbs toyed with her nipples, she melted against him.
And then he took her, and the fear and tension of the evening drifted away. Maybe nobody would ever own Judd Brody, but Judd Brody owned her—mind, body and soul.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, London climbed on the back of the Harley in her pantsuit, feeling right at home. Judd hadn’t bothered to exchange his jeans for a suit today, and he’d replaced the weapon the limo driver had taken from him last with another gun from his small arsenal.
They careened through the streets, leaving Nob Hill for the Sunset where Bay Realtors had an office—the same office that Judd had called last night.
When they reached the realty office, London slid from the bike and Judd slotted it into a parking space. He locked the helmet on the side of the bike and slicked back his hair.
She put a hand on his arm as they crossed the street. “Remember. We’re not going to barge in there demanding answers. We play it by ear.”
“I do this for a living, lady, and sometimes demanding answers is the way to go.”
A bell jingled on the door when they entered the realty office and a man and a woman with their heads together, huddled over a desk, both glanced up.
The small office gave London hope. This didn’t look like the type of office where strangers roamed in and out using the telephone. Of course, the caller could’ve been a client.
The two Realtors kept talking, and Judd whispered in her ear, “Doesn’t look like either one of them recognizes us or is surprised to see us.”
The man straightened up first and put on his best Realtor’s smile. “Good morning. What can I do for you?”
Showtime. London cleared her throat. “We’re interested in this area and were wondering if you have any listings.”
The man made a detour to a desk and swiped a binder from the corner of it before approaching them. “Certainly. I’m Jonathan Quick, and you are?”
“I’m Connie and this is my husband, J-Jim.” They hadn’t decided on pseudonyms, but Constance was her middle name and Jim had a nice, generic ring to it. And of course, they had to be husband and wife. After the lovemaking they’d shared last night, anything else would be indecent.
“Connie, Jim.” Jonathan shook her hand, but Judd had turned away and was strolling toward a rack of
flyers.
“We have all our listings over there, but I have the Sunset ones in this book.” He patted the white three-ring binder in his hand. “House? Town house? Condo? The Sunset has them all and parking to boot.”
“We’re looking for a detached single-family home.”
“We have several of those.” Jonathan placed the binder on a table and flipped it open. He shifted his gaze to Judd, now standing back and staring at some banner on the wall. “Sir, would you like to have a look with your wife? If anything interests you, I’d be happy to take you out for a showing.”
Judd pointed to a sign hanging above a desk, crepe-paper streamers on either side of it. “Who’s Cynthia?”
“What?” Jonathan’s brow wrinkled and he darted a glance at London.
“Cynthia.” Judd leaned forward and tapped the sign so that it swayed over the desk. “It says, ‘Welcome back, Cynthia.’ Is she an agent here?”
“Uh, yes. Cynthia Phelps. Do you know her?”
London took a few steps toward Judd and could feel the tension vibrating from his tightly coiled body. What was he getting at? Was he just fishing?
“I know someone who knows her. She just got out of the hospital, didn’t she?”
London’s breath quickened. Did Judd know something?
Jonathan joined them, the binder held open in his hands. “She did.”
Judd turned, a fake smile on his face. “Is she here?”
Jonathan’s shoulders sagged with the realization he might be losing some customers to Cynthia. “She’s not here. Actually, she’s taking some time off. She left town. Didn’t Cynthia leave town, Lori?”
The woman called from her desk. “Yes. She’s taking a break for a while.”
Jonathan blew out a breath and hugged his binder. “She’ll be gone for some time.”
“But she was here.” Judd flicked the welcome-back banner with his finger. “She came back to the office.”
“Yes.” Jonathan cocked his head. “We had a little homecoming party for her when she got out of the hospital. Did you speak with Cynthia before? Had she shown you any properties? Because I can pick up where she left off.”
“Was she in the office last week?”
“Sir.” Jonathan placed the binder back on the edge of the desk and folded his hands in front of him. “Cynthia is not here, but I can help you with your needs.”
“She was here last week, wasn’t she?”
The question sounded innocent enough, and Judd’s voice, low and smooth, didn’t contain a hint of a threat or violence, yet Jonathan’s eyes bulged from their sockets and he stammered.
“I—I’m going to have to call the police if you don’t leave.”
“The police?” London stepped between the two men. “There’s no need for that. My husband knows Cynthia and thought we could work with her. That’s all.”
Lori had risen from her desk, clutching her phone. “Why are you asking about Cynthia? She’s been through enough.”
Judd held up his hands. “I know. I know she has. My brother told me what happened to her. Ryan Brody’s my brother, the guy who found her that day and helped her. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she worked here, and when I saw her name it sort of jogged my memory. My brother would want to know that Cynthia’s okay. That’s all.”
London looked from Judd to the two Realtors, not knowing what to believe. Where had this all come from?
Jonathan leaned against the desk and licked his lips. “She’s okay. That’s all we can tell you.”
“Fair enough. I’ll let my brother know.” He took London’s arm and steered her out of the office with two pairs of eyes burning into their backs.
Judd marched her across the street, and when they hit the sidewalk, she jerked her arm away from his hold. “What the hell was that all about? Who is Cynthia? Was all that true about Ryan? What happened to her?”
Looking up and down the street, Judd said, “We need to find a place to talk.”
“Coffee place around the corner. I saw it when we rode up.”
They found the coffeehouse and grabbed a table by the window after placing an order.
“This is crazy.” Judd ran his hands through his hair.
She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Let me in on the crazy.”
“Cynthia Phelps, aka Cookie Crumb, was a hooker who knew my father twenty years ago.”
London widened her eyes.
“Not that way. He’d arrested her pimp or something. Anyway, Cookie was the last person to see my father alive. She saw him jump from the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“What?”
“Ryan looked her up when he and Kacie Manning were working on that book together. They talked to her once, and when they went back to see her, someone had beaten her to a pulp. She went into a coma.”
“And you think Cynthia’s the one who called Rick and bribed him to give that job with Bunny to you?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Bay Realtors didn’t ring a bell with me, but Ryan told me Cynthia was a Realtor and she’d been attacked at a house she was showing in the Sunset. When I saw that sign with her name, it clicked.”
“Why would Cynthia do that?”
“Ryan felt that Cynthia knew something. She was too afraid to talk to him and Kacie, and then someone made sure she couldn’t talk to them.”
“Did she contact Ryan when she came out of her coma?”
“No. Ryan kept calling the hospital until one day he called and they told him she’d been released. The police had spoken to her, but she claimed she couldn’t identify her assailant.”
The barista called out their names and Judd jumped up to get their drinks.
London took a sip of her coffee and then traced around the edge of the lid. “Instead of telling you what she knows about your father, she arranged to throw us together. That way nobody needs to know she talked to you...or me.”
“Dr. Patrick, Cynthia Phelps, Marie Giardano—anyone who knows anything about what happened twenty years ago is a target.”
“Who are Dr. Patrick and Marie Giardano?”
“Dr. Patrick was the department psychologist who saw my father after his partner was killed, which we now know was a setup. Before Sean had an opportunity to question him, he had a heart attack and died.”
London gasped. “These people are serious. And Marie?”
“She’s the longtime records clerk at the department, friends with both my mom and dad back in the day. Any time any of my brothers came around to request the old files to look into the case, she got very nervous, until she just disappeared a few months ago.”
“Is she...?”
He lifted his shoulders. “We don’t know. She took off with her purse and passport, packed a bag, and disappeared. I hope to God she’s okay and just keeping a low profile until this business all blows over.”
“When will that be?” London bit the tip of her fingernail, holding her breath.
“When we solve the mystery and find out what happened twenty years ago. You’re not going to be safe until that time, either. Someone out there is always going to be worried about what your father told you or what he left for you to discover.”
“He should’ve just come clean instead of leaving me cryptic notes from the grave.”
“He had to have known that he was putting you in danger.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time my father failed me.”
“Join the club.”
“So you kill yourself? You give up?” He rubbed the hard line of his jaw. “It can’t be that easy to set someone up for crimes he didn’t commit, unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you’re privy to information and resources that would allow you to do something like that.”
“Like the police?”
Their eyes met and London’s heart hammered so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest onto the table.
Judd nodded. “And the police commission.”
“We need to go through my father’s files on the laptop, and, Judd—” she tapped the back of his hand with her fingertips “—we’re not alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“Think about it. Cynthia successfully engineered a meeting between us and someone left that newspaper clipping on your bike. Someone in the know wants us to find the truth. That ex-con stepped forward. Even my father is trying to speak out.”
“Then let’s go search that laptop.”
London hugged Judd around the waist all the way back to the financial district. Whatever happened between them once this was all over, she’d have no regrets. She loved Judd, but she recognized a fellow free spirit when she encountered one. If he went his own way in the end, she could live with it. She’d loved and lost before. It had left a gouge in her heart, but she’d survived it.
He parked in front of the building and they took the elevator up to the BGE offices. London waved at Celine in the outer office.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be in today, London. Do you want me to schedule any meetings for you while you’re here?”
“No. Judd and I are going to do some work in my office for a while.”
“Should I hold your calls? Someone’s been trying to reach you all morning, some guy from the Global Giving Foundation.”