“For the first time, I can see my own mortality,” Kane continued, stirring but not drinking the cocoa. “Your grandfather died years ago, and my brother and I don’t speak. I see all the mistakes I’ve made and I’m looking for ways to make them right.”
Tori tried to imagine another grandmother besides Grandma Millie and Gramma Jean. She couldn’t do it. All her sugar-cookie-eating and petunia-planting memories were of them. With them. But she did remember how it broke her heart when Gramma Jean died.
“I’m sorry about your mom.” Tori met his eyes again. He smiled at her for a moment, then looked away.
“You and Alexia are the only children I have.” His voice still sounded sad. “And Benjamin is the only grandchild I have.”
There was something else in his voice now, Tori sensed. Was it hope? She wished Lexie were here. Lexie could read anyone. With 100% accuracy. Of course, it was a good thing she wasn’t here because Lexie hated their father almost as much as Mom did.
Tori sighed. She didn’t want to make Lexie or Mom upset, but they hadn’t seen Kane in years. Here he was, right in their kitchen, not drinking hot chocolate with her, and he looked genuinely sad and lonely. She couldn’t just push him out into the cold, could she?
After a moment she said, “What did you have in mind?”
KANE used every bit of his willpower not to chortle in triumph. And his father called him weak. Ha! His father would have bungled this job before he’d even begun, forcing his will on others by brute strength. But Kane won because he used his head. He had finesse. It was an omen. This was merely the beginning of the victories coming his way.
He felt the energy burning in his chest and took a slow calming breath. This was not the time or the place to show his daughter what kind of bloodline she came from. Soon.
He thought quickly, revising his original plan. He’d hoped all three of them would be here tonight, that the girls would be thrilled to have a rich daddy walk in and make all their dreams come true. But he couldn’t wait for his men to conduct a new inquiry into his daughters’ activities. Their schedules had apparently changed since the last one. No problem. Maybe this would be better. He’d woo this one first, then get her to convince her sister, the one who had his grandson, and then they’d all be together. One big, happy family.
He remembered the last time he’d seen Alexia. She’d been little, maybe around kindergarten age. She’d stared at him like she could see inside, then she cried like the world was going to end. She’d been upset with him for leaving, obviously. He’d have to figure out how to make her forgive him soon. But for now, he would focus on Victoria.
Kane asked to look in on his sleeping grandson. Victoria denied him with an absurd excuse about waking the boy. He suggested they have dinner together tomorrow night. She liked that. When he asked if she thought Alexia would come, she insisted it was too soon. With Alexia it would take more time. There was a limit to how much time Kane would allow the girls, but he smiled and nodded.
He answered questions about his mother, sometimes telling the truth, and deftly sidestepped questions about his father and brother. If Victoria acted interested, he continued on the current topic of conversation. He told her about his mother’s rose garden and the horses she used to ride. He left out the fact that he only knew about the garden after she died when he wondered to the housekeeper why no one brought roses into the house anymore. And he neglected to mention that the horses had been recycled into steaks and glue.
When Victoria seemed uninterested or repulsed – what had Dixie done to make the girl repulsed by talk of money and success? – then Kane turned the conversation elsewhere. Soon he couldn’t think of anything else to say. The girl had a typical female’s interest in relationships and people, and apparently no interest in taking her place in the richest, most powerful family in the state. No wonder she lived in this all-but-a-hovel. His mother would have fainted.
She wouldn’t have liked the nicknames either. He’d chosen names of power for his daughters. He expected the girls to use them. But then, they’d never developed any powers so maybe it didn’t matter anymore.
“What do you do?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m a temp,” the girl said with a bright smile.
At his questioning glance, she continued. “A temp, you know, a temporary employee? I get to try out all kinds of jobs at all kinds of places so I can decide what I want to pursue.”
Kane slowly nodded his head. “Ahh.” No wonder she had no money, no career. “You should work for me, I pay better.”
She laughed. She thought he was joking. And perhaps he had been. But the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He’d keep reeling her in until he had what he wanted. Yes, this could be perfect.
“Then you could afford to live in a nicer area,” he said. He thought about his grandson. Soon he would be living with Kane. “I own a beautiful condominium property you and your sister would like.”
Tori waved her arm vaguely and chuckled. “Well, as far as I know, there’s only been the one mugging around here, and I didn’t even get hurt.”
Kane’s eyes sharpened on hers. Information was power. One power anyway. “What happened?”
Her eyes widened and she stuttered and stammered.
Obviously, she hadn’t meant to share that fact. So she hadn’t told her parents. Dixie, that is. Kane knew what role he would play now – confidante. Perfect. He’d share all her secrets.
He smiled the way ladies loved. “I can see you’re unhurt. So what happened?”
“Just some teenagers dressed up so no one could see their faces,” she said cautiously. “Gave them courage to be…adventurous, I guess. One grabbed my purse, then dropped it after I chased him.”
“Really?” Kane wondered if his family had been wrong and she had a power after all. “How did you get him to do that?”
She laughed and blushed. “I didn’t. I fell and some other guy found it and returned it to me.”
Kane masked his disappointment. He shouldn’t have expected anything. His mind worked to put together ways he could use tonight’s information to achieve his ends. He looked at his watch and smiled graciously again. He had other things to do tonight.
“I really should be going. I’ve taken enough of your time, dropping by unannounced.” He stood and carefully shook out the wrinkles in his coat, not letting it touch the undoubtedly dirty floor. He pressed her again. “May I see the boy before I go?”
She cleared her throat as she picked up the mugs and took them to the sink. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s really not a good idea.”
What was she hiding? Children fell asleep at the drop of a hat. It shouldn’t matter if the boy was awakened. He must already be displaying his gift and she didn’t want Kane to see it. Kane’s heart rate picked up speed. He wondered what the boy could do.
His daughter walked him to the door and he forced himself to calmly follow her.
“I hope you can be patient with Lexie,” she said. “I’ll try my best, but it’s going to take time to convince her that you’ve changed.”
“I’ve changed?” he said without thinking.
She turned to him, her face serious. “You know, since your mother died, wanting to be part of your family again.”
He nodded and applied what he hoped was the proper expression. “Yes, yes, it’s true, I really have changed.” He had no idea what the twit was talking about, but she seemed reassured.
He buttoned his coat and opened the door. “I’ll send a car for you tomorrow at 7:30,” he said as he left.
“A car, well, oh, um,” she stammered behind him. “I’d prefer to drive myself. Thanks anyway.”
Kane ground his teeth. She had no respect for his position in this city. He calmed himself. She would soon.
“Fine, I’ll have my secretary contact you with a location and directions.”
He waved over his shoulder and hurried away. She really was clueless. Which would make his growing idea tha
t much easier to implement. Soon she’d be begging to move into one of his condos. He just had to make sure her sister and his grandson came with her.
AS KANE was leaving Lexie’s place, Joe was pulling into a dark parking lot across town. He parked at the back of an unremarkable building in an unremarkable industrial park. Hiding in plain sight. Next to his eight-year-old black Dodge pickup sat a dark gray Ford and a gold or tan, depending on how dirty it was, Toyota. Both sedans were several years closer to their born-on date than Joe’s truck. His fingers itched to write “Wash Me” in the dirt on the Toyota’s windshield simply because it would make Mickey crazy. He restrained the urge, and let himself in the back door using the numeric keypad.
Just as the door started to close, Joe let the ten-year-old inside have his fun: he zipped over to Mickey’s car and wrote on the back window. Chuckling, he admitted to himself that getting married hadn’t made him a grownup. Back inside, he pressed his thumb against a panel on the wall and mockingly saluted one of the three video cameras in the tiny vestibule. Through that door and down a flight of stairs, another numeric keypad took his digits, and a final steel door opened.
Mickey looked up as Joe entered. He relaxed on one of the oversized leather sofas in the sitting room, reading on his iPad. None of them were willing to use the colloquial “lair” to refer to their secret office. Joe and Bull had dubbed it Bachelor Heaven, but Mickey liked people to call it the team office. More understatement. So Mickey. But Joe did find it funny that Mickey called this room by such an old-world name.
Mickey just looked at him the first time Joe had laughed. “It’s the room where we sit,” he’d said, as if Joe were a dunce.
Joe walked over and gripped his friend’s hand in a warm hello as he felt a familiar contentment settle around him. He’d helped Mickey design this space, and Mickey had made it clear Joe was welcome any time. Even after he got married.
Mick’s super ability lay with machines, computers, and inventions. A laboratory filled with his gizmo’s lay behind a door near the kitchen. Joe found Mick’s talents far more fascinating than Joe’s own ability to gain strength through metals or even his capacity to heal quickly. What Mickey could do was just plain cool. Joe missed hanging out and playing with the new inventions.
He cast a longing look toward the door to the gym and sat down on a couch. He needed to make more time to work out, get the softness of holiday eating and honeymooning out of his muscles. Due to their abilities, as well as their desire to stay under the radar, a public gym wouldn’t work.
Being married was taking up a lot more of Joe’s time than he’d anticipated. Though it did have its perks, he thought with an inner grin.
“’S’up?” Mickey said and went back to reading.
Joe relaxed into the leather. He felt a deeper sense of belonging here than he ever felt at home. The city had made him an offer – they would provide him a house rent-free in a neighborhood that needed to be cleaned up, and after five years they would give him the house. Joe was grateful, but he accepted the house only because it was part of the assignment. He could never make that falling-down building feel like home. And if he did, it could blow their cover. How many guys in their mid-20s have enough money to throw into home renovations? In that neighborhood?
Mickey’s basement though, this was a place where a man could relax, take a load off. There were days Joe wondered if Mickey would be able to get him to leave. Of course, Joe frequently wondered how often Mickey stayed here all night, steps away from his work, miles away from his empty house.
Joe brought his attention back to the moment when the steel door opened again.
“Hey, guys,” Bull called. “Look who I found outside.”
Detectives Art Paredes and Casey Knox of the Double Bay Police Department, Special Liaison Unit, called out their hellos and sat on one of the couches.
“Hiya, Art,” Joe said, shaking his hand. “Good to see you, Casey. You’re looking wonderful.” He gave her a casual hug.
Art sighed dramatically. “It’s always, ‘Hi, Art’ and ‘Hellooo, Casey.’ I’m gonna get a complex.”
Everyone laughed – because it was true. Gorgeous Casey Knox could’ve been a model if she were taller, and if she didn’t have a passion for putting away the bad guys. Any of them would’ve dated her in a heartbeat, but she’d built a sturdy wall between her work and her personal life.
Art was a good-looking guy himself, but he knew it. The man had an obsession with clothes that would’ve been irritating if not for his sense of humor about it. If it meant catching crooks and killers, Art would wade through sewers – Italian loafers and all. Joe had been there that day. Casey had created “Art’s Wall of Shame” in their office at the station – pictures of Art in various degrees of ripped, stained, and totally ruined clothing. Under each picture Art had written the name of the criminal nabbed that day. Joe had seen it; it was a wall to be proud of.
“All right, let’s get down to business.” On his iPad, Mickey opened an app he’d developed where he kept all his notes.
Joe patted his pockets in the vain hope that a pad and pen would appear that he hadn’t put there. Mickey shook his head and pointed to the drawer on Joe’s side of the coffee table. Inside were several notepads and pens. Joe grinned his thanks.
“You weren’t a Boy Scout, were you?” Mickey grumbled. “Art, why don’t you take the floor?”
Art pulled a file from his briefcase and opened it on his lap. He lay some photos on the coffee table. “I’m sorry to say Evan Ruffalo died sometime Wednesday night or early Thursday morning, and we’ve confirmed that it was not from natural causes.”
Joe said a silent prayer for the man and his wife. He never thought Evan would get hurt. Threatened, yes; murdered, no. “Any leads yet?”
“Techs haven’t found much. At this point, we’re quietly looking for a Jack.”
A person with powers was a suspect. Not a surprise, but not good news. Joe looked through the pictures while Art read from his file. Joe had seen dead bodies before, but nothing ever prepared him for it. He never got used to it, and that was probably a good thing. He flipped quickly through the pictures.
“His body was found by a new employee – under her desk actually. But we–”
“Yeah, Joe’s wife,” Bull interjected.
The last picture in Joe’s hand was of a police officer interviewing a woman in her mid-twenties, a tallish brunette who looked semi-hysterical, flash-frozen on the paper.
“Tori.” Her name slipped out as he looked at the picture. She looked much worse than he’d imagined when she told him about it last Thursday afternoon.
“What?” Casey exclaimed. “Tori Lewis. That’s the woman in the picture.”
“Tori Clarke,” Joe said, still looking at the photo and feeling an urge to hit something. Hard.
“Tori Lewis is your new wife?” Art asked, his voice getting higher at the end.
Joe looked up to catch a look pass between the two detectives. “Her maiden name is Lewis. She hasn’t gotten around to changing it yet.”
“She’s not a suspect, is she?”
Joe noticed that Mickey’s tone was harder than was usual when he spoke with the SLU. It was nice to know Mickey had embraced Tori into their circle, even if he hadn’t realized it yet.
Casey made a non-committal movement. “At first we thought she was our primary suspect because she kept telling officers on the scene, ‘It was an accident, I swear it was an accident.’ The officer who interviewed her eventually learned that she’d bumped his back with her foot a couple of times before she looked to see what was down there. Although she’s on the list, we don’t consider her a prime suspect.”
“Tori didn’t kill Evan.” Joe tried to make his tone neutral, but everyone was staring at him. He tried again. “My wife isn’t a killer. She was in the horrible position of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Again. Joe hoped the SLU didn’t realize Tori was also at the convenience stor
e robbery. It would be too coincidental for them to ignore.
“Of course, Joe.” Art’s voice took on the cadence of a police officer giving nothing away.
Joe started to say more, but Mickey interrupted.
“Did you find anything in Evan’s office?” Mickey asked. “Anything to give you an idea of who or why?”
“Isn’t it obvious why?” Joe jumped in before Art could answer. “He found out something about the missing kids, something important.”
Art hedged. “Well, that’s why we’re here. Officially, the police don’t have many leads. The security tapes are being analyzed, doors and desks are being examined to see what was broken into, what might be missing. But we found little physical evidence near the body–”
“Or, in fact, anywhere at the scene,” Casey broke in.
“Right,” Art nodded, “to shed much light on who killed him or how. The fact that a smaller group of us know Mr. Ruffalo is linked to another case… Well, it’s time to send one of you in.”
“Excellent. Evan works in finance and development,” Mickey said. “Joe has experience in finance. He can be there tomorrow.”
“What about Tori?” Casey asked. “Is she still working there?”
Art shook his head. “That won’t work. No one will believe that a married couple just happened to start working in the same department at the same time. Maybe you should go in, Mickey.”
Casey nodded.
“Since Tori is a temp, it won’t be a problem. She can get reassigned to another company.” Mickey made some notes on his tablet.
That was probably a great idea, actually. Joe didn’t want her anywhere near a murderer. “She’s supposed to go in tomorrow, but I’ll ask her to stay home.”
“No, you should both be there.” Bull had been sitting quietly, but now he leaned forward. “You know how offices are, the women confide in women, men talk to men. You’ll find out more if you’re both there.”
Mickey paused in his note-making. Joe could see he was considering the idea. Did it have merit? Theoretically, he agreed with Bull, but…
Unexpected Superhero (Adventures of Lewis and Clarke Book 1) Page 11