by R. D. Brady
Nevaeh reached over and grabbed his hand. “I am not accusing you of anything. I am just warning you that they are coming. Steve, you’re the godfather to my son. You don’t have to convince me of anything. I know who you are.”
Steve looked into Nevaeh’s eyes. He’d known her for years, and she knew about his past. But he couldn’t help but feel like a cage was being set around him.
“Look, Hodgkins was killed the night we were all at Laura’s. There’s no way you made it out there and back in time. It’s just not possible.”
“Did you explain that to the detective?”
“I did. But he still wants to speak with you.”
Steve groaned. This could not be happening again.
“Just speak with these detectives, and then this will all disappear. With the weather, they won’t be able to travel here for a while. If they even do. They might just call.”
“Sure, yeah.” But in his gut he knew that wouldn’t be the case. The detectives had gone to court to get his record unsealed; they weren’t going to be satisfied with a phone call. Whatever was happening right now was not going to be easily swept under the rug. And if these Albany detectives were anything like Hodgkins, they would have made their minds up already about who was responsible for Keith Hodgkins’s death.
Damn it, Keith, I wanted you dead for years. But right now, I really wish you were still alive.
Chapter Thirteen
The drive from Albany took Gomez and Sullivan thirteen stressful hours. The roads in New England were a mess. Huge snowdrifts lined the roadways, especially once they got off the highway. The diner they’d stopped in had a mountain of snow that had been piled at least ten feet high. They got snow in Albany but nothing like this.
Gomez and Sullivan had traded off driving so that each of them could get a little bit of sleep. They both wanted to be on their game when they questioned Kane. Now they’d had a decent breakfast, and Gomez felt a tingling of excitement at the idea of finally sitting down face-to-face with the monster that he’d read so much about.
Sullivan pulled into the parking lot of Dover Lumber. He took a spot near the door but left the engine running. The double gate of the yard had been thrown wide, and beyond it, Gomez could see piles and piles of lumber carefully arranged. Although now it looked like most of them were covered by snow. A small bulldozer was working its way through the area, pushing snow off into corners, creating more mountains.
“This place looks pretty nice,” Sullivan said.
“They have a good reputation,” Gomez said grudgingly. “People come from pretty far to get their wood from them, and their custom work brings in a pretty penny.”
Sullivan shook his head. “I still can’t believe the uncle of one of the victims hired him.”
“He seems to think that Steve saved his nephew. This guy has everybody snowed.”
“No pun intended? Well, shall we?”
Gomez gripped the door handle. “Yup.”
Sullivan turned off the engine, and the two of them made their way quickly to the front door. Even with the sun shining down brightly, there was still a vicious nip in the air.
A wall of warmth greeted them as they stepped into the reception area. A young man looked up from behind the desk directly in front of them and smiled. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”
Gomez spoke as he headed to the desk. “We need to speak with Steve Kane.”
The man frowned. “I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”
Sullivan leaned forward. “He means Steve Davidson.”
The man’s smile returned. “Oh, Steve.” His smile dimmed. “I’m sorry, he’s speaking with another client right now. And then he has another client right after that. But he’ll be free in about two hours if you want to make an appointment for then.”
Gomez pulled out his badge. “No, we don’t want to make an appointment. Get me Steve Davidson now.”
“Uh …” The man stepped up from his desk, his hands moving nervously. “Um, I’ll be right back.”
The man hurried across the reception area and disappeared into one of the doors near the couch. A few minutes later, he returned, followed by a large African American man.
Gomez’s eyebrows rose. He’d read the file on Reggie Tully, but he hadn’t realized exactly how large the man was. He had to be close to six feet six inches tall. He definitely didn’t look like a pushover. How had Steve Kane fooled this guy?
Tully crossed the room until he was standing in front of the two men. He crossed his arms over his chest, which only helped to accentuate the size of his biceps. Gomez was pretty sure Tully knew that. “How can I help you, gentlemen?”
“You can’t,” Gomez said. “We need to speak with Steve Kane.”
Reggie’s eyes narrowed at the use of the name Kane. “Come with me.”
He headed back to the door that he’d appeared from. The receptionist slipped back behind the desk, still looking nervous.
Gomez and Sullivan exchanged a look before following. Sullivan entered the room ahead of Gomez. It looked like a main office, but there was no one else in there except Reggie. Reggie headed to one of the desks but didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned back against the desk, which still left him taller than both detectives. Neither Gomez nor Sullivan made a move to sit in either of the chairs in front of him.
The anger on Reggie’s face was unmistakable. “So you just barge in here throwing that name around, trying to destroy a man’s life?”
Gomez scoffed. “Seems Steve Kane has already destroyed lives. He shouldn’t be surprised when it gets turned back on him.”
Reggie spoke through gritted teeth. “Jack Kane destroyed lives. Steve’s life is one of the ones he tried to destroy. He’s finally getting his life together, and now you two are coming in here trying to destroy the peace he’s found?”
Sullivan put up his hands. “No harm meant. We just learned about his new name recently. We’re used to thinking of him as Steve Kane. It was a slip of the tongue.”
“Uh-huh.” Reggie didn’t take his gaze away from Gomez as Sullivan spoke. “Sure it was.”
“Are we going to have a problem here, Mr. Tully?” Gomez asked.
“I don’t know, Detective, are we?”
Sullivan stepped forward. “Hey, there’s no need for any of that. We just need to ask Steve a couple of questions, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
“What about?” Reggie demanded.
Gomez was about done with this guy’s attitude. “None of your damn business. And if you don’t show us where Steve is right now, we’ll have you arrested for obstruction.”
Reggie smiled. “Really? You can arrest me? Aren’t you a little out of your jurisdiction, Detective?”
“Yes, he is,” a woman’s voice called.
Gomez turned around to see a tall, striking African American woman striding toward him. He recognized her from the photos. Chief Nevaeh Brent. She strode right up to Gomez and Sullivan, her arms also crossed over her chest. “You want to tell me what you’re doing in my town without coming to speak to me first?”
“No offense meant, Chief,” Sullivan said. “We just need to ask Steve a couple questions, and we figured with all the snow, you probably had your hands full.”
Nevaeh stared at Sullivan until he looked away. “You think I got this job because of my pretty face? You know damn well you should’ve come to speak to me first. And if you’re going to speak with Steve, I am going to be there as well.”
“Chief, there’s no need—”
The chief cut Sullivan off. “There damn well is.” She looked at Reggie. “Where is he?”
“He should be heading up here now. I sent Tanner to go get him.”
A knock sounded at the doorway. Gomez turned. The man standing in the doorway was about five foot ten with a full beard. He was wearing a fleece jacket, jeans, and work boots. And even with the fleece, Gomez could tell that the guy was strong.
Steve Kane stepped into the room, glancin
g at each of the occupants in confusion. “I heard that somebody wanted to speak with me.”
Chapter Fourteen
The smell of coffee wafted through the crisp morning air. Phineas’s hands were going numb, even as he held his own cup of coffee. He shifted from side to side in front of the police department, leaning against the gray concrete wall at the edge of the stairs.
She should’ve been out by now.
At least a dozen people had come and gone since he’d arrived twenty minutes ago. Most of them had been police officers, but there’d been a few civilians in the group. He was beginning to worry that maybe he’d missed her. It was getting close to lunchtime. People would be streaming out soon. Sylvia Cortina normally left for lunch around 11:30. Hopefully today she was running late and hadn’t slipped out early. The tips of Phineas’s fingers were going numb. He blew on them just as he caught sight of the familiar blonde head of hair pop out of the front door of the police station.
Sylvia tucked her head against the chill and headed down the steps. Phineas grabbed the other cup he’d set on the wall beside him and hurried after her, slipping into the small amount of pedestrian traffic and appearing next to her. “Hello, Sylvia.”
Sylvia didn’t slow but flicked a quick glance at him, her brown eyes widening in surprise. “Max. What are you doing here?”
“It’s Phineas,” he mumbled.
Sylvia laughed, a dimple appearing in her cheek. “Well, it was Max Scheffield for twenty-one years. I’m not about to switch your name just because you had an identity crisis three years ago.”
Phineas glowered but tried to hold back his anger. His name change had not been well received by the people who knew him. And Sylvia had grown up down the street from him. Max Scheffield was a fine name, but it was not the name of a Pulitzer-prize-winning journalist. Now, Phineas O’Rourke was a name of distinction. That was a prestigious name. Max Scheffield was a good name, but it was a name that didn’t inspire or entrance. And Phineas wanted a name that demanded respect.
“Is one of those for me?” Sylvia asked.
Phineas handed over the other cup. Sylvia took a sip and then grimaced. “It’s cold.”
“I was waiting for a while.”
Sylvia tossed the cup into the trash receptacle but didn’t slow. She shifted her workout bag over her shoulder. “What do you want, Max?”
“Information. The Hodgkins case.”
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Why are you interested in that?”
“Why? It’s Keith Hodgkins. The world will be interested in that.”
Sylvia shook her head. “He was a drunk who hallucinated Steve Kane killing him. He got rolled in an alley and didn’t survive. It’s not a story.”
“Why don’t you let me decide that? Besides, Detective Gomez got himself put on the case. And I was hoping maybe you might give me an angle that would help me get an interview with him.”
“Gomez doesn’t do interviews.”
“What about Sullivan?”
Sylvia paused. “Occasionally he’ll do one. But not on this. He’ll follow Gomez’s lead.”
Phineas knew all about Gomez’s connection to the Jack Kane case. He wasn’t surprised that Sullivan would take second chair to Gomez, even though he was the senior partner. “Okay. So back to Gomez. Can I get in to see him? Is there a good time? A restaurant he likes? Give me something.”
Sylvia shook her head. “Look, Gomez has been through enough. He doesn’t need you dragging his name through the mud while he goes through all this old baggage.”
Phineas stared at his old friend. She usually just said yes or no when he ambushed her like this. “Wait a minute, did you date him?”
Sylvia’s cheeks reddened, although it was hard to tell if it was from embarrassment or from the cold. “Just leave him alone. Besides, he’s out of town.”
“Out of town? He took a vacation in the middle of all of this?”
Sylvia shook her head. She stopped and turned to face him. “Look, I’ll give you something, but you need to agree to leave Gomez alone. Deal?”
Phineas nodded eagerly. “Deal.” Excitement rose within him. Sylvia worked at the front desk. She knew all the comings and goings in the department. “What have you got?”
Sylvia shot a look up and down the sidewalk before leaning closer to Phineas. “Gomez and Sullivan headed up to Maine. They went to a place called Dover. I don’t know why, but it has something to do with the Hodgkins case.”
Phineas frowned. Dover? He’d never even heard of it. Of course, he didn’t exactly get to New England very often. “Okay. That’s great. I’ll look into it.”
“And you’ll leave Gomez alone?”
“If Dover pans out, then yes, I’ll leave him alone.”
Sylvia’s gaze pierced into Phineas. “You know your job rips open scabs people have worked a long time to develop, right?”
“The Free Press is an important institution. People have the right to—”
“Oh, don’t give me that garbage. You’re not into it for the civic duty. You want to see your name splashed beneath a headline. Just remember, Max, that stories have real people behind them. Real lives that can be destroyed. So tread carefully.”
“I will, I will,” Phineas said, although his mind was already racing up to Maine.
Sylvia shook her head and headed down the sidewalk without another word. Phineas ducked into a coffee shop and took an empty table by the window. He had two hours before he had to report to the restaurant for tonight’s shift. He’d gotten stuck with opening. He quickly pulled out his laptop and began to search for Dover, Maine. Population 3,500. He frowned. What on Earth could possibly be of interest in Dover, Maine?
He hunched his shoulders over the keyboard. Whatever it was, he would find it.
Chapter Fifteen
Four sets of eyes turned to Steve as he stood in the doorway. Reggie looked angry, so did Nevaeh. Tanner hadn’t really been clear as to what the other two gentlemen wanted. He said they were cops, but from the look of them, they were detectives. But not from Maine.
Damn you, Keith.
Steve stepped farther into the room as one of the men held out his badge. “Steve Kane?”
Steve faltered before resuming his forward motion. “Davidson. I’m Steve Davidson now.”
The other man smirked. “Yeah, we know all about that.”
Steve darted a glance at Nevaeh, looking for a little guidance.
Giving each of the detectives a good glare first, Nevaeh turned her attention to Steve. “These two men are the detectives from Albany Homicide that I told you about. They want to speak with you about the death of Keith Hodgkins. Detectives Gomez and Sullivan.”
Detective Gomez turned quickly to Nevaeh. “You told him we called?” The accusation was impossible to miss in his tone.
Nevaeh just looked back at him without blinking, then she slowly raised an eyebrow. Reggie snorted, not even trying to hide his smile.
Detective Sullivan stepped forward. “Why don’t we all take a seat? Then we can have a little chat, and we’ll be out of your hair.”
Steve’s whole body felt stiff. He’d known that they were going to question him, but he didn’t think it would be this soon. With the storm, it must’ve taken them forever to get here. Which meant they really wanted to talk to him.
Which meant he was in trouble.
Steve took a seat in one of the club chairs. Reggie leaned against the wall near him while Nevaeh took the other club chair. The detectives were forced to sit together on the couch.
Detective Gomez shot a glare at Reggie. “You’re not needed here.”
Reggie met the detective’s belligerent look with a smile. “And yet I’m staying.”
If someone didn’t know Reggie, they’d think he was calm. But Steve could see the anger brimming under Reggie’s surface. He was mad on Steve’s behalf. Steve just hoped he didn’t get into trouble on his behalf as well.
“Okay, fine.” Sullivan, who was obviousl
y the peacemaker out of the two, spread his hands wide. “As you’ve apparently heard, Keith Hodgkins was killed in Albany two days ago. Do you know Keith Hodgkins?”
“Yes.” He didn’t think he needed to expand beyond that. They obviously knew he knew him.
Sullivan opened up his notepad, his pen poised above the surface. “And when was the last time you saw Keith Hodgkins?”
“In person?” Steve asked.
Sullivan nodded.
“Seven years, two days, and”—Steve glanced at his watch—“approximately twelve hours ago in the kitchen of the home I grew up in.”
Surprise flashed across Sullivan’s face before he covered it. “You didn’t see him after that?”
“Not in person. I saw him on TV, but by the time I was well enough to leave the hospital, he’d already been removed from his position as chief. And I had no interest in extending our acquaintance.”
Sullivan frowned. “But at your brother’s trial—”
Steve cut him off. “I didn’t attend my brother’s trial except when I had to, which was when I was testifying and when Julie testified. Otherwise, I didn’t go.”
“You didn’t want to support your brother?” Gomez asked.
Steve turned to face the detectives. “My brother killed my father, he killed my grandmother, he killed about two dozen other people. He tried to kill my wife, and he tried to kill me, so no, Detective, I didn’t want to support my brother.”
Gomez held his gaze for a long moment. “A lot of people that you have a grudge against have ended up dead lately.”
Steve froze. A lot of people? Who else had died? Before he could ask, Nevaeh cut in. “That is not part of your investigation. If you’re done with your questions about the Hodgkins case, then you can leave.”
Sullivan spoke quickly. “Where were you two days ago?”
“I was here in Dover. I worked here until five. And then we had dinner at a friend’s. We were there until ten. I was back here the next morning at six thirty.”