Private Security

by Mallory Kane

  Dawson grimaced. “Not at first,” he hedged. “I’m here, though. What happened exactly?”

  Ryker walked up, followed by Reilly and their mom. The twins had matching scowls on their faces. After quick hugs and greetings all around, Dawson repeated his question.

  Michael wiped a hand down his face. “I was downstairs. Your mother was finishing up the dishes. I heard glass breaking.” He reached for his wife’s hand. “I thought she’d dropped something, so I started upstairs to check. Then she screamed.”

  “I heard the big window in the front shatter.” She pointed to the hole in the floor-to-ceiling window in the two-story-high foyer. “I ran in there to see what had happened and flames were coming out of a broken bottle.”

  “A Molotov cocktail,” Reilly said.

  Dawson nodded.

  “I screamed for your father and ran to get some water, but by the time he got up from the basement, the sheer curtains on the side windows were up in flames. We ran out through the garage.”

  “I called 9-1-1 after we were outside,” Michael put in.

  Ryker turned to Dawson. “This is all connected to the Sky Walk, isn’t it? Who are these people? Do you know?”

  Dawson shook his head. “No, but I’m sure as hell going to find out. In fact, I need you to—” He was cut off by the sound of police sirens. Two police vehicles roared up and two officers got out of one, while two young men in casual attire jumped out of the second, carrying cases.

  “There’s the crime scene unit,” Reilly said. “I’m going to go talk to them, see if I can observe.”

  Ryker started to follow him, but Dawson caught his arm. “I need the evidence from the bottle, plus their findings from Caprese’s house last night. This is getting way too close to home.”

  “You got that right. Why don’t you back off and let the police handle this? Your snooping around is just muddying the water, not to mention putting our parents’ lives in danger.”

  Dawson glanced toward the house. “I think I’m getting close to the truth. Why would they target Mom and Dad?”

  Ryker took a step toward him. “Maybe they think you’re smarter than you are.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m guessing this is a message to you to back off.”

  “I’m not backing off. There have already been three attempts to hurt or kill Jules and the police refuse to put her in protective custody.”

  “Oh, come on, Daw. I know you—you’re a maverick. You’d rather work against the police than with them.”

  “So? I’m getting results.”

  “Results? You think two deliberate fire assaults are results?”

  Dawson scowled at his younger brother. “If I don’t figure out what’s going on, Dad could go back to jail.”

  “He can’t go back to jail if he’s dead,” Ryker shot back.

  “Look at that,” Dawson shouted, gesturing toward the house. “Do you think for one minute that they couldn’t have broken in and killed Mom and Dad? The Molotov cocktail was a warning.”

  “That’s what I said! A warning to you. Too bad you don’t have sense enough to take it!”

  “Dawson! Ryker!”

  Dawson turned and stared. Michael Delancey’s voice sounded stronger and sharper than it had in years.

  Ryker took a step backward. “I’m going to talk to the officers,” he said shortly and walked away.

  “Is Ryker right?” Michael asked Dawson.

  “About what?” Dawson growled.

  “Are you the one these people are trying to stop?”

  “It’s Jules—Juliana Caprese—who’s being targeted.”

  His dad studied him for a few seconds. “Until tonight. Now it’s your mother and me.”

  Dawson didn’t say anything.

  “You listen to me, son. If you’re fooling around in Tito Vega’s business, you’d better stop. He ruined my life without lifting a finger. If he was behind the Sky Walk’s collapse, he won’t let you live long enough to expose him.”

  * * *

  DAWSON WAITED UNTIL EVERYONE had gone and his mom was packing a bag to go to a hotel to corner his dad.

  “I want the truth, Dad. Now!” Dawson growled. They were standing on the brick entrance to the house, looking at the damage.

  “That stained-glass insert is a Tiffany,” Michael said. “Your grandmother gave it to us.”

  Dawson looked up at the colorful circle, the bottom few panes of which were broken. He’d never paid any attention to it. It was just a part of the house he’d grown up in. “Maybe you can get it fixed,” he said distractedly, then, “Dad—”

  “Don’t start with me. This has been a horrible night. I don’t want Edie to come out and hear us arguing again. She can’t handle all this stress right now.”

  Dawson clenched his fists as he thought of his mother struggling to stay sober. “Then why didn’t you think about her when you were getting yourself thrown in prison?”

  A pained expression crossed Michael’s face. “What’s it going to take to make you believe I didn’t deserve to go to jail? I’ve never done a dishonest day’s work in my life.”

  “You want to know what it’s going to take to make me believe you? How about the whole truth? How about telling me everything you know about the Sky Walk, who worked on it, who was responsible for it falling if it’s not you.” Dawson blew out a frustrated breath. “Tell me now, before someone else gets hurt.”

  To his surprise, his dad nodded. “Okay.” He sighed. “I did hire Knoblock after the guy in the suit threatened your mother. I knew he’d been sent by Vega, although he never said. So, yes, even though I knew exactly why Vega wanted Knoblock on the project, I hired him and let him handle the Sky Walk.” Michael shook his head and sat down on one of the brick steps.

  “He was a nervous wreck the whole time. Always looking over his shoulder, snapping at the workers. One day I was there after hours, around eight o’clock, just taking a look at everything, and I heard him on his phone. He obviously didn’t think anyone was around. He was angry.” Michael leaned his forearms on his knees.

  “Best I can remember, his exact words were ‘revenge for your son is between you and him. I’ve taken care of everything you asked for. We’re square now. My men and I will be out of here by tomorrow.’” Michael paused for a second. “Whoever was on the other end of the phone said something. Then Knoblock said, ‘Fine. You keep your blood money. It’ll be worth it to me if I never hear from you again.’”

  Dawson frowned. “Revenge for your son. Who was he talking to?”

  Michael shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “Have you told this to the police?”

  “No! And I’m not going to. If that was Vega on the phone and it gets out that I heard the conversation, he’ll make good on his promise. He’ll kill your mother.”

  “Are you sure it was Vega?” Dawson asked.

  “No, I’m not sure of anything. But Vega wanted Knoblock to build the Sky Walk.”

  “Where’s Knoblock now? I’ll get him pulled in for questioning and get a warrant for his phone records.”

  “No idea. He came in the next day, reported to me that the job was finished, and I never saw him again. He didn’t even wait for me to pay him.”

  “Damn it, Dad! If I’d known this, I could have had the police looking for him all this time. I saw where he’d been indicted for a bridge collapse in Kansas City. Maybe he went back there. I’ll get the police to check on that.”

  “Don’t do that, Dawson. If you do, Vega will hear. He’ll know. You’ll get your mother killed.”

  “How do you think he’s going to find out?”

  Michael stood and paced. “Are you kidding me? Look at the man. He’s right up there with all the big-city officials and politicians. How do you think he’s managed never to get caught in all this time?”

  Dawson spread his hands. “I’ll tell you how. Because people like you are too chicken to come forward.”
He stepped up to his dad. “Well, that ends right here, right now. You—” he poked a finger at his dad’s chest “—are going to the police and telling them everything.”

  Michael lifted his chin and stared Dawson down. “I will not. I can’t risk your mother’s life!”

  “We can get both of you into protective custody. Hell, I’ll get a couple of my men to guard you.” He turned and paced, taking the same path Michael had. “I just wish we had some proof.”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair. Proof. The police weren’t going to be very impressed with a couple of notes, especially considering that Michael Delancey wrote one of them. He turned back to his dad. “Are you sure there’s not—”

  Michael was staring at the ground, an odd look on his face.

  “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  The older man kept staring at the ground for several more seconds. Then he looked up at Dawson.

  “Dad?”

  “Can you promise me you can protect your mother? She’s so—fragile right now. Her nerves are nearly shot from trying to quit drinking.”

  Dawson stared at his dad. “What are you saying? I can keep both of you safe, but— What are you thinking?”

  “I’ve got proof—proof at least that the design for the Sky Walk was altered. It implicates Knoblock. It’s not going to give you Vega.”

  Dawson’s pulse raced. “You’ve got proof? Why didn’t you tell me? Where is it? What is it? Is it here, in the house?”

  Michael nodded. “In my safe.” They went into the house and met Edie coming from the bedroom with her suitcase.

  “Here, Mom, let me get that,” Dawson said.

  “Ready to go?” Michael asked Edie. “I’ll get the papers while you put the suitcase in the car,” he told Dawson, tossing him his keys.

  By the time Dawson got the suitcase into the trunk of their Lexus and his mother settled in the passenger seat, Michael was there with a large envelope. He gave it to Dawson.

  “That’s the altered plans. You’ll see Knoblock’s notes about the changes.” Michael shook his head. “The only thing it proves is that he compromised the structural integrity of the Sky Walk. Not who ordered it.”

  “Where did you get these?”

  “They were in a locker in a dressing room the construction workers used. I knew Knoblock had stored some things there, but I figured he’d cleaned out his locker before he left. It was a long shot.”

  Dawson peered inside the envelope. The sheets of paper he saw were stained and wrinkled. “What happened to them?”

  “The lockers were under the Sky Walk. Everything in them spilled out onto the floor.”

  “You went in there and found these after the collapse?”

  Michael nodded. “I was hoping I could find something that proved that Knoblock was responsible.” He shrugged. “That does, but it doesn’t prove I’m innocent.”

  “What do you want me to do with them?”

  “I’d bet money that Knoblock’s dead. Vega wouldn’t leave a loose end like that hanging. Especially not after what I overheard. But on the off chance he’s managed to stay alive, maybe you can find him.”

  Dawson was afraid his dad was right. If Vega was behind all this, and he was on the other end of Knoblock’s phone call, he might very well be dead. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  He walked over and leaned down to speak to his mother through the passenger window. “Mom, get some rest, and don’t worry about the house, okay?”

  She shook her head with a wry smile. “I’m not worried about the house, dear. I’m worried about my men.” She patted his hand. “Please be careful. And don’t forget what I told you about your father.”

  “I won’t,” he replied. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He straightened as his dad opened the driver’s-side door. “I’ll call you, too, Dad.”

  Michael got in the car and pulled away.

  Dawson watched the taillights until they disappeared around a corner, then he turned and looked at the house. Ryker was right. He’d put his parents in danger, and for what? He looked at the envelope in his hand. It might be the only solid piece of evidence he had that Knoblock changed the plans for the Sky Walk. But was it enough to clear his dad?

  Sighing, he pulled out his phone and called Grey Reed, his best investigator after Mack. “Grey, you’re not on assignment right now, are you?”

  “Nope. I turned in the final report on the Barber case Friday.”

  “I need you to bodyguard my parents.” He gave Grey a synopsis of what had happened and told him where they were staying. As he got into his car, he called his dad to tell him what he’d arranged. Then finally, he headed back to his apartment.

  His apartment. Jules. Yeah, no chance she’d still be there, not now that she knew he was Michael Delancey’s son.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Juliana breathed a sigh of relief as she shifted the plastic bag of books to her left hand to unlock the door to her apartment. She’d made it. It was after ten o’clock, but she was finally home.

  She dropped the books and her purse onto the couch and trudged into the bedroom. Without doing anything except kick off her boots, she fell onto the bed and pulled the throw over her.

  She closed her eyes and waited to fall asleep. It couldn’t take more than a few seconds—she was that tired. But now that she’d made it safely back here, sleep evaded her.

  She turned over and pulled the throw over her head. She took a deep breath that ended at the top with a yawn, then let it out, coaxing her limbs to settle onto the mattress as her lungs deflated.

  There. Relax and go to sleep.

  But no. Her brain was on fast-forward. Everything that had happened in the past thirty-six hours or so was flashing before her closed lids like a slide show out of control.

  The fire, the hospital, Dawson taking such gentle care of her, then making love to her over and over again.

  And then—that phone call.

  She threw off the throw and sat up. She couldn’t sleep. Tossing her clothes on the floor of her closet, she headed into the bathroom and took a hot shower. It made her feel better but it didn’t stop the images from spinning in her head.

  As she towel dried her hair, the image of Dawson as he’d looked standing in the living-room doorway rose in her mind. He’d looked horrified, chagrined, embarrassed. As well he should have.

  But no matter how horrified he was that she was holding his cell phone, staring at the display, his horror hadn’t held a candle to hers.

  Dawson was Michael Delancey’s son.

  How could she have been so naive, so stupid? She’d been suspicious of him from the first moment he’d stepped in front of her to pay the taxi driver. She should have checked him out further. Somewhere on the internet was a mention of his full name, she was sure. He was John Dawson Delancey.

  She tossed the towel onto the floor and threw on her terry cloth robe, then headed into the kitchen to see what she had in her freezer. She knew that whatever was in the refrigerator was probably growing green mold by now.

  Ice cream. Perfect. She’d give herself brain freeze. That would stop the slide show. But did she have any chocolate syrup? She opened the refrigerator door, ignoring the green stuff, and found it. Squeezing an ignominious amount onto her two scoops of ice cream, she went into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

  She took a big bite of vanilla ice cream swimming in chocolate syrup and closed her eyes as the dark sweetness and icy cold stung the roof of her mouth. She took another bite. It was necessary to eat fast to get brain freeze. Then she reached for the remote control—silly sitcoms went well with brain freeze—but instead she found herself reaching into the bag of books she’d retrieved from her dad’s den.

  As soon as Dawson left to check on his parents—the Delanceys—she’d called a cab to take her to her dad’s. The house might be a crime scene, but she still had keys, so she’d gone inside. She’d studiously ignored the damage and headed directly to t
he den and grabbed the yearbooks and portfolio she’d left there.

  She had no idea what was in the portfolio. When she’d glanced inside, all she’d seen were small, black bound notebooks, like day planners.

  She emptied them onto the couch beside her. Picking up the notebooks one by one, she saw that they actually were day planners—eleven of them, one for each of the past eleven years, except for this current year. She flipped through a couple of them. Her dad had kept a record of his life, measured out in pages divided into hours and half hours. And in the back of the recent ones were a pile of sticky notes.

  Her throat closed and her eyes grew damp, looking at the pages of her father’s life. She had vague recollections of his reaching into his shirt pocket for a black book and jotting notes into it, but it had never occurred to her that one day he would be gone and she would be reading the events of his life in his own handwriting, hoping to find a clue to why he’d died.

  But where was this year’s planner? Then she remembered—she’d found it in his desk at the casino. Dawson had put it in her purse, along with the other things she’d found there.

  She grabbed her purse and dug inside until she found the day planner. She stared at its cover for a long while.

  She didn’t think she wanted to read the entries for the last day of his life. She wasn’t sure she wanted to read any of them. But she’d never forgive herself if the answer to why he’d died was on one of those pages and she didn’t even try to find it.

  She finished the ice cream while she paged through, starting at January 1. Her dad had been semiretired before he got the job at the Golden Galaxy Casino, so the pages were filled with notes about fly-tying or woodworking projects, dates for coffee or golf with friends, and notes about her. Several times she had to stop and dry her eyes as she read things he’d written about her.

  Then, on April 20, next to the 2:00 p.m. line, a name jumped out at her as if it were printed in flashing red ink.

  Vega, written in her dad’s neat, precise hand. Her heart thudded against her chest so hard that she put her hand over it.

  Vega came through. Surprise! Got call from Meadow Gold Corp. Golden Galaxy, here I come! Opening June 1. Short notice…