“Yeah.” Rylan took another bite, wrapped up the bagel, snatched his coffee, and hurried after Brett.
The car Brett chose surprised Rylan. He expected something flashy and sporty. Instead there was a Buick Enclave waiting for them.
“The guy who handled the rentals recognized me and kept trying to hook me up with a Corvette. Because a great big hockey player stuffed into a small car makes sense. I thought about buying one once until I had to peel myself out of it.” Brett shook his head and got behind the wheel. “I have one of these at home and I like a car I don’t suffer career ending injuries getting in and out of.”
Rylan settled in the passenger seat and nodded. “This sure is comfortable. I think I spend too much time in cabs and airplanes.”
“It’s a perk of not spending so much time on the road, that’s for sure.” Brett switched on the GPS and guided the car onto the street. “Looks like rush hour has thinned out.”
The GPS informed them their route was clear and they’d reach their destination in seventeen minutes. Rylan immediately noticed Brett had switched the GPS setting from kilometers to miles, as many Americans would.
“Smart phones and onboard GPS certainly make getting around a different city every few weeks easier,” Rylan commented. Brett nodded, but didn’t comment back.
When they arrived at the hospital it took a bit of driving about the parking garage to find a space. Even if they were permitted to see Clive they still had plenty of time to get to the police station. Once inside Brett nudged Rylan toward the gift shop where he bought flowers arranged in a vase.
“Celia told me she always wanted purple and white for her wedding colors,” Brett explained as he paid.
Rylan sucked in his breath and blinked his eyes quickly a few times. “That’s…”
“What?”
“Very sweet. It’s not something I’d expect.”
“That the jock would be sensitive enough to know such a detail?” Brett grumbled. He scribbled his name on the small card that came with the flowers and turned it to Rylan and held out the pen.
Rylan signed his name and handed it over to Brett. “No. It’s not something brothers usually know about their sisters.”
Brett shoved his wallet into his back pocket before taking the vase of flowers and turning to Rylan. “Remind me again, how many sisters do you have?”
Rylan shook his head. “You know I don’t have any brothers or sisters.” He looked away and hoped Brett wouldn’t notice the tears trying to escape his eyes. “Not biological ones anyway.”
Brett’s hand settled on Rylan’s shoulder. It was warm and strong and incredibly comforting. “I’m surprised you didn’t know, considering how close you and Celia were.” He pulled in a deep breath and huffed it out. “Let’s get this over with.”
They got directions to the intensive care floor from the gift shop then rode up in the elevator in silence. The doors opened to a small reception area. Behind the desk, Rylan saw two doors marked Authorized Personnel Only. A middle-aged woman in green scrubs looked up at them.
Brett stepped forward. “Hi. I’m here to see Clive Sebastian. My sister is—was—his fiancé.”
The woman nodded and consulted her computer monitor. “Your name?”
“Brett Rocha.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, you’re not on the visitor list.”
“Can you tell us how Clive is?” Rylan asked.
Giving them a sympathetic look, she shook her head again. “No, I can’t release information to anyone but family.” She focused on Brett. “I’m very sorry about your sister.”
Rylan noticed she hadn’t asked who Brett’s sister was or what’d happened to her.
“I understand.” Brett set the vase of flowers on the desk. “Could you make sure Clive or his family gets these? Their wedding colors were going to be purple and white.”
The woman nodded. “Of course.”
Once they were back in the elevator Brett sagged against the side and closed his eyes. He dragged in a few wet, ragged breaths. “Fuck this is hard.” The elevator was empty except for them.
Rylan hit the stop button on the elevator and stepped close to Brett. Two people crying in the elevator coming from the intensive care unit surely wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but he wanted a moment’s privacy. Certainly, Brett did too. He slipped his arms around Brett’s waist and pressed his face to Brett’s shoulder, trying and failing to choke back a sob.
Brett’s arms enveloped Rylan and held on tightly while garbled sounds rumbled from his chest and he rested his cheek against Rylan’s head. Rylan wasn’t sure how long they stood there like that, probably no more than a minute, before Brett moved his hands to Rylan’s shoulders and rubbed up and down. He very gently moved Rylan back a small step, putting the tiniest bit of distance between them. Moving one hand to Rylan’s cheek, Brett wiped the tears there away with his thumb then leaned down and brushed his lips over the same path.
“We should probably get going and try to keep it together,” Brett murmured.
“Ye-yeah,” Rylan’s voice cracked and stuttered. He reached over and started the elevator again and was more than a little relieved when the door opened and no one was waiting to get into the elevator. The sudden thought they’d prevented someone from getting to a loved one in intensive care was gut wrenching.
Their walk to the car was without much conversation other than remembering where they parked and the fifteen-minute ride to the police station was in silence. The station, like much in that section of the city, was in an older building. There was a parking lot across the street where they left the car before making their way to the stone steps at the front of the building. If the outside looked nineteenth century, the inside certainly did not.
There were computers, glass partitions, and large, wall-mounted monitors everywhere. Rylan sat in one of the chairs in a waiting area and tried not to think of how tightly wound Brett appeared as he paced back and forth. It was all sorts of wrong under the circumstances, but Rylan enjoyed watching how Brett moved. Broad shoulders, with a grace wrapped up in power and determination. It was no wonder he’d earned the nickname Rock when he played pro-hockey. No doubt the nickname partially came from his surname of Rocha, which meant rock in Spanish. Today Brett was a rock dressed in a fine Italian suit.
They were early, and Lindsay Swift didn’t arrive until a few minutes before ten A.M. Rylan was rather relieved Brett hadn’t blown into pieces by that time.
“Mr. Rocha? I’m Detective Constable Lindsay Swift.” Lindsay Swift said. She carried a tablet and folder in her hand.
Brett strode forward and held out one hand. She took the offering and shook once. “I’m Brett Rocha.” He turned and held one hand out to Rylan. “This is Rylan Hennessey.”
The DC smiled, it was a polite, but not friendly expression. “I know. We’ve met.”
Rylan stood up and stepped closer to them, watching as DC Swift looked Brett up and down. The action wasn’t a woman checking out a good looking, athletic man. That would’ve made Rylan jealous. This was a police officer sizing up a potential suspect. Rylan suppressed a shudder.
He looked away from the detective and to Brett. It was obvious he felt the same vibe from Lindsay Swift. When Rylan encountered her previously, Swift had been sympathetic and kind. Rylan couldn’t fathom what caused her change in attitude, Brett hadn’t said more than a few words to her.
“Will Mr. Hennessey be joining us?” Swift asked.
“Yes, of course,” Brett said.
Swift asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to do this privately?”
Brett blinked and pulled himself straighter, then his own expression hardened. “No,” He ground out. The man definitely gave off that don’t want to mess with me in a dark alley impression.
“This way, we can talk in here.” She turned and led them through to what looked like some kind of conference room. Once they were inside and the door shut, she crossed to the opposite wall, pulled down
some blinds, then closed them.
Rylan slowly sank into a chair as it hit him, this was an interrogation room. Brett took a fast look around, then sat beside Rylan.
“How close are you to arresting my sister’s killer?” Brett didn’t even wait for DC Swift to sit down.
“Mr. Rocha, I’m sorry to say there isn’t much of a case. Right now, all the evidence points to your sister and her fiancé being attacked in the street. An attempted mugging,” DC Swift said. She sat down and folded her hands on the table top. “The fact is, we have no witnesses, no weapon, and very little physical evidence from your sister or Mr. Sebastian. Before we go any further I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Is this some sort of formal questioning?” Brett asked. His gaze flicked to the closed blinds then back to the woman across from them.
DC Swift shook her head. “No. However, there are a few details I’d like to know about you.” When Brett nodded, she continued, “You and your sister own an ice skating academy in the States, is that correct?”
“Yes. Outside Missoula, Montana. Big Sky Ice Skating Complex. It was founded and operated by my parents. When they passed away it went to Celia and me, though until recently neither of us had much of a hand in the day-to-day running and operation. That job went to our manager, George Lane,” Brett explained. “I’ve also invested in a restaurant chain with a few other retired professional sports players. I’m not a chef or anything, but I do show up at a few locations regularly.”
“Which one?” She asked.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard of them here in Canada, but the franchise is Foodie Champs.” Brett shook his head. “I didn’t pick the name.”
DC Swift smiled a bit at that, this time it was genuine. “And now with your sister gone, you’re the sole owner of Big Sky?”
Brett licked his lips and blew out a soft breath. “Are you saying I killed Celia for her share of our business?”
“Did you?”
“No!” Brett snapped. “The last three years I played hockey I made six-mill a year. That’s not counting championship bonuses. Big Sky pulls in maybe a third of that. Not to mention the fact I was in Missoula when she died. You talked to me when I was there.”
“In all fairness, Mr. Rocha, when I spoke with you it was on a mobile number. You could’ve, conceivably, been anywhere. Can anyone corroborate your location?”
“I was in a club called Ice Dragons with George Lane. I used my credit card there and plenty of people saw me. It’s an exclusive place, most members know one another on sight.”
DC Swift picked up her tablet and typed in what Rylan presumed was the name Ice Dragons and Missoula. He watched as her finger moved across the screen. After a minute or so her eyebrows rose and Rylan wondered what sort of club Ice Dragons was.
“I see,” DC Swift said.
“Call them and ask,” Brett muttered.
“I will.”
Rylan wished she’d move that damn tablet so he could see the screen as well.
“Here’s what I know,” DC Swift said. “There were no witnesses and the section of alley they were in had no security cameras. I’m not even sure why they were out there and neither were the employees of the shop they were in previously. There’s nothing out there other than garbage dumpsters. Not even enough room for employee parking, but someone could cut through there to another main street to do more shopping and I suppose that does happen.”
“Do you think they were drawn out there, or forced?” Rylan asked.
“In that part of the city I’ll admit it’s a very good place for someone to wait for and find prosperous victims. There was a lot of water and ice chunks in the street near your sister that may have had something to do with the attack. There’s also a bar two doors down and the ice and water could’ve come from there.” DC Swift paused for a few seconds. “I’m not sure since the crime scene wasn’t well preserved before we arrived. People came from several of the shops when they heard a woman scream. Your sister was stabbed and her fiancé was struck with a blunt object in the head, as well as stabbed.” She stopped again. This time her face and posture relaxed slightly and she leaned back in her chair. “This case won’t be closed, but I’ll be honest with you, I think whoever did this planned it out well and knew the best when and where. They covered their tracks, and I haven’t got a damn thing to go on.”
Brett frowned and Rylan saw how he clutched the arms of the chair until his knuckles turned white. “Someone was hired to kill her?”
“Her, or them, I’m not sure, but yes, that’s what I believe. Proving it is a different story.”
“Was anything taken…stolen?” Rylan asked.
“That is information we’re not releasing. Along with other details of hers and Mr. Sebastian’s injuries.” She looked pointedly from Brett to Rylan and back again. “To anyone.”
Brett opened his mouth, Rylan was sure it was to voice some argument but Swift cut him off. “That decision is final.”
“What about her…their hotel room? The hotel has asked that their belongings be removed. Is it okay for me to do that?”
Swift nodded. “Yes.”
Brett stood up and held out his hand to DC Swift. “Thank you for seeing us.”
She stood, shook Brett’s hand, and nodded to each of them. “I’ll be in touch if I have any news.”
On their return trip to their car Brett’s face was closed off and his shoulders rigid. When they reached the car, Brett hit the hood with the heels of both hands. “That bitch thinks I’m responsible for Celia dying!”
“I think if she really thought that she’d have arrested you,” Rylan pointed out. He held out his hand. “Give me the keys.”
“Huh?”
“You’re pissed off and I don’t want to die trapped in a mangled car. Give me the keys and let me drive,” Rylan insisted. Brett glared for a minute and Rylan thought he’d refuse so added, “I’m not getting into a car with you behind the wheel like this.”
Brett dug in his pants pocket and pulled out the rental key attached to a ring with a little piece of cardboard. “How often do you actually drive?”
Rylan scrunched his lips. “Okay, you’ve got me there, not much, but I’m not likely to rear end another car because I’m distracted.” He hit the button and unlocked the doors then slipped behind the wheel.
Brett got in the passenger side and fastened his seatbelt, pulling it tight as Rylan put the car in gear.
They’d driven about half the way back to the hotel when Rylan finally said, “I should’ve said something right away.”
“About what?” Brett shifted in his seat so he could look directly at Rylan.
Rylan shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t, but I wasn’t sure if you’d believe me. I’m sorry.”
“Rylan, what the hell are you talking about?”
Rylan bit his lower lip for a second then ran his tongue along his upper lip before he glanced briefly at Brett. “Celia showed me a note they—she and Clive—had received the day after we arrived in Vancouver. She thought it was just from a wacko fan and threw it out.”
“So, it’s gone?”
“No. They were in my room and, I don’t know why but I pulled it out of the trash later and kept it.” Rylan’s fingers tensed around the steering wheel until his hand cramped. He stretched his fingers trying to ease the tension.
“How come you didn’t give it to the cops?”
Rylan shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know. I didn’t think it was important. I don’t know. That’s not true, I do know. I didn’t want people digging into their private lives and their reputations ruined.” He glanced at Brett. “I’m sorry.”
Brett heaved a sigh. “Would whatever that note said have prevented them from being attacked and Celia dying?”
“No. I don’t think so.” He paused for a few seconds. “I didn’t know that detective would even consider that you had anything to do with what happened.”
“Can I see it?” Brett ask
ed quietly.
“Yeah, sure.”
Brett shrugged and held out his hand.
Rylan looked over at him again. “I don’t have it with me, it’s back at the hotel.”
Brett nodded and ran one hand over the dash a few times before letting it drop to his lap. “Will you help me clear out their room and pack their things? I figure that Clive’s family hasn’t thought of it and I can deliver his belongings to them.”
“Yeah, sure, of course,” Rylan said. “You’re a very thoughtful person.”
Brett shrugged but didn’t say anymore.
Once they were back at the hotel they stopped in Rylan’s room to change. Wearing a pair of jeans and sweatshirt felt much better to Rylan.
“This is much better.” Brett ambled from the bathroom wearing a loose, cable knit sweater and jeans.
Rylan chuckled. “I will say, I’ve been enjoying the suits.” He took a deep breath, broke eye contact with Brett, and bit his lip while he held out a post card with a picture taken from the street of a building. “This is the note Celia showed me.”
Brett took the card and looked at it, then turned it over. “Stop cheating on Rylan, he’s your boyfriend,” he read the words Rylan knew were scrawled on the back. “When did Celia get this?”
“A day or two after we arrived here, at least that’s when she showed it to me.”
“Did Clive know about this?” Brett held up the postcard.
Rylan nodded. “Yes, all three of us were together.”
“So…Celia wasn’t cheating on Clive.” It was a statement, not a question but Rylan nodded affirmative anyway.
“We thought it was someone who believe Celia and I were…” Rylan trailed off waving one hand in a small circle.
“Hmm. Did this sort of thing happen a lot?”
Rylan shrugged. “Not all the time, but people have a perception and sometimes they get pissed when it’s wrong. She said that was slipped under her door. We’ve all gotten weird notes over the years.”
“And how long were you in Vancouver before she died, eight days?”
Rylan nodded again.
“This card came five days before they were attacked.” Brett looked steadily at Rylan. “Which means you would have no reason to think this note was a threat to their lives.” He moved closer and put one hand on Rylan’s shoulder. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, I doubt anyone would have thought much of one note.” I’ll call the front desk and have them send someone to let us in Celia and Clive’s room.”
Edge Jump Page 3