by Nancy Bush
His wife sent him a disapproving look.
“Well, he was. A type A-one bastard in my book.” Ignoring his wife, Maury, whom September had expected to be the silent one, started talking. “The truth is, our kid got caught up in the wrong crowd. First drinking, then marijuana, and then God knows what else. We had lots of fights about it and he took off a couple of times but always came back.” He let out a long breath and said a little more quietly, “And then he just didn’t.” With a look toward the mountain, Maury added, “The kid just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, get his act together. Never figured out which it was. Maybe a little of both.”
Raquel was shaking her head, gray ponytail sliding across her shoulders. “We looked for him. Called all his friends, the hospitals, the police . . . anyone we could think of. He didn’t have a cell phone back then, but we had a family computer, such as it was.”
“Hand-me-down clunker from my brother,” Maury interjected.
“But,” Raquel went on, “nothing . . . not a word. Ever.”
“Do you know if he went by a nickname?” September asked.
Raquel shot her a look. “A nickname? No? Maury, here, called him ‘Son,’ but that was about it.”
“What about Laser?” September asked as a breeze kicked up, touching the back of her neck.
Maury shook his head but said, “That crowd he ran around with had all sorts of names, or handles, or whatever you want to call it, for each other. Some not so nice, if you know what I mean.”
“Would you happen to have anything of his that might help me either to ID the body or eliminate Lance as the victim?”
Raquel shuddered at the idea.
“You mean like for a sample of his DNA?” Maury asked. “Like they do in all those cop shows? What, a toothbrush or a hairbrush?”
September nodded. “Or a lock of his hair, maybe a first tooth from when he lost them?”
Raquel threw her husband a dark glance. “We’ve got nothing of Lance’s.”
“I thought it best when we moved here to start clean,” Maury said. “We’re retired and this is a new phase of our lives, so . . .”
“So we threw away everything. Gave what we could to charity, then tossed the rest.” Raquel slipped her hand away from her husband’s as a goat bleated. “His idea.”
“I already admitted that,” he said flatly. Obviously this was not the first time they’d had this discussion, a sore point in their marriage.
“What about the name of your dentist, in case I need to compare his records to the victim?”
Raquel said, “Dr. Emerson saw him. He had a practice on Main Street back then . . . but I think maybe Lance’s last appointment was before he got his permanent teeth. We, um, we didn’t have a lot of extra money back then, y’know, before I inherited this place.” She rubbed her hands together between her knees. “I’m sorry.”
“She blames me for that, too,” Maury said.
September changed the course of the conversation, asking about Lance’s relationship with Tommy Burkey and/or Davinia Singleton, but neither of them had much to say on either subject. She asked more about his drug use and they reluctantly talked about it a little but were clearly uncomfortable.
“I understand you had horses on Aurora Lane,” September said, purposely changing to a more neutral topic.
“A horse. Lance rode him some,” Maury said. “Now we have room for a few more.”
They looked up at her expectantly, waiting for the next question, but September was about finished. “Did you know any of the other people who rented the house before or after you?” she asked.
“The Kirkendalls lived there before us,” Raquel said. “Kim and . . . oh, what was her husband’s name? He was a real piece of work.”
“Leland,” Maury supplied. “Son of a bitch parked his RV on the front lawn. Made horrible ruts. Remember?”
Raquel said, “’Course I do. Couldn’t plant anything there for years.”
“And you think that loser Mamet would fix it? Hell no. Even though he evicted them for not paying their rent on time.”
“Well, they had a reason,” Raquel said and Maury nodded, as if the Kirkendalls’ troubles were common knowledge.
“And that was?”
Raquel said, “Their daughter of course.”
“What happened?” September asked.
“She died. That’s the real reason we got the place,” she said. “Their lives fell apart. They stopped paying rent. They stopped doing anything, as I heard it. The mother, Kim, couldn’t stand living there after Wendy was gone.”
“She was killed,” Maury said bluntly. “Drowned . . .”
“No, strangled,” Raquel said. “And dropped in the lake. Happened right before we moved in.”
September felt her skin break out in gooseflesh. Something niggled at the edge of her consciousness. Almost a memory. “I think I recall her death.”
“Yeah, it was all over the news,” Maury said. “Anything else we can help you with? We’ll look for anything of Lance’s that might help, though there’s not much here.”
Raquel said to September, “But if you do find out those—bones—are my son . . .”
“You’ll be the first to know,” September assured her.
She drove back to the office, ignoring the speed limit. The discussion of Wendy Kirkendall had built an urgency inside her. She went straight to her desk, glad George was engrossed in his computer and Gretchen, though September saw her jacket on the back of her chair, was away from her desk. She sat down and accessed her computer terminal. One quick search and Wendy Kirkendall’s name popped up. Now September remembered. It had been on the news when September was in high school herself. Wendy’s body had been found floating in Schultz Lake, but she’d died of asphyxiation, the result of a willow branch tied around her young neck.
* * *
“I’ll drive,” Luke said, snagging his keys from his pocket as Andi rounded the corner from her bedroom. She’d been dreading this meeting with Carter and the Carrera brothers all night, but she’d told herself not to be intimidated; she could get through it. With everything she had to deal with lately, including Trini’s death and the suspicion that she might have been murdered by Jarrett, Andi figured dealing with the twin thugs would be a piece of cake. Especially because Luke would be with her.
“I think I can handle it.” She found her own set of keys. “I feel like I’ve been an invalid, and I’m over that.”
“I like it.”
She walked past him to the front door, unlocked it, and stepped into the cool morning air. She breathed deeply, smelling the scents of fir and pine and the earthy odors coming off the lake behind the house.
God, she loved it here.
And she loved being here with Luke.
Don’t go there, she reminded herself as she fantasized for half a second about a future with him, here, so close to the lake that she could watch herons, ducks, and osprey fly over.
A jacket tossed over his shoulder, Luke followed her onto the porch and yanked the door shut. “What’s that?” he asked in a tight voice.
“What?”
He was staring at the willow wreath she’d hung on the door, his willow wreath. Her heart clutched as she saw him gingerly pluck a white card from the ring of sticks.
“Another note?” he asked, and her heart went cold. All the happiness she’d felt seconds earlier, the fantasies, had shriveled.
Carefully, just touching the edges, he turned the card over.
Little birds should be careful whom they choose as a mate. Tsk, tsk. There is no such thing as faithfulness. You should know where he’s also been putting his pecker. Be careful. Seabirds can die, too.
“Shit,” Luke muttered under his breath.
Andi started quaking deep inside. “What is this? Why are they doing this?”
“To scare you,” he said grimly.
She shook her head.
“Our note writer is threatened by me,” he observed. “Not sure what h
e means about being faithless. Maybe he thinks our relationship has gone on longer than it has.”
“All this about birds. Trini and me . . . and now seabirds?”
“Some kind of clue,” Luke said. “Goddammit. He’s a coward.”
“It’s getting personal and he’s pissing me off.” That was true. The shivering inside her body, the fear, was morphing into anger. She was furious about Trini’s death, about her brother’s involvement, about creeping around and trying to terrorize her and now . . . now bringing Luke into his sick, twisted game.
“We have to find him,” Luke said grimly.
“You got that right.”
“He either came last night or very early this morning.” He stared at the ground. “If he drove, there might be tracks . . . but I don’t see any.” His gaze ran over the area around the cabin, the ground under the windows. “No footprints visible.”
Andi checked her watch and hesitated. “Maybe we should call the police,” she said, then thought about their treatment of her brother. “But right now, we’re late.”
“Give me a sec. I’ll be right back. Give me your house key, then start the car.”
She didn’t argue, just gave him the key, then headed to her Tucson and slipped behind the wheel. She’d barely switched on the ignition when she saw Luke appear on the porch again. He took a second to lock the house, then, with his jacket and a small plastic bag holding the card, jogged to her SUV and climbed inside. “Let’s go,” he said, and before he snapped on his seat belt, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
“What was that for?”
“Not letting the bastard’s attack on me get to you.”
“Oh, it got to me. Just not the way he intended.”
Luke flashed her a smile as he clicked his belt into place. “Hit it. We don’t want to keep the Carrera brothers waiting.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said and did a quick one-eighty before ramming the SUV into drive.
They were only a few minutes tardy by the time they reached the Wren Development offices. It wasn’t surprising that Carter was waiting for them, but the fact that Emma, more sober than Andi had seen her in weeks, was also waiting was a little unexpected. Dressed in a black dress, coat, and heels, her makeup perfect, her eyes only slightly bloodshot, she looked ready to do battle. Of course the ever-dutiful Ben was at her side.
Carter took one look at Luke and his features tightened. “This is a meeting for the members of the business only.” He wagged a finger at both Ben and Luke. “You two can wait outside. Maybe you can go get coffee or,” to Luke, “a beer. It must be five o’clock somewhere.”
“Luke’s staying,” Andi snapped, tired of Carter’s high-handedness.
Emma stood her ground as well. “Ben, too. We’re a team.”
Carter immediately began spouting off reasons and rules, all of which Andi ignored. She cut him off with, “I assume we’re meeting in the conference room? Then let’s get started.” She led the way, Luke one step behind her. Emma’s high heels clicked sharp and fast. Carter had no choice but to follow them in.
Andi took her usual chair, the one Greg had generally occupied. Carter appeared to want to start making a scene but thought better of it. As the majority shareholder, Andi had the right to direct the meeting and sit anywhere she damn well pleased. She was just thankful that Carter had the sense and decency to acquiesce instead of going for schoolboy tactics and tantrums.
But he’d called this meeting, so he was today’s director. “Okay,” he said, pulling a sheaf of papers from his briefcase. “Everything I’m proposing is digital, sent to your computers, but here are hard copies of what I’m proposing.” He shot Luke and Ben each disparaging looks that caused Ben to redden but began a slow smile across Luke’s lips. Ben might be bullied and cowed by Carter, but Luke Denton was another story.
Perfect, Andi thought as she caught the pages Carter slid across the polished mahogany. “Where are the Carerras?”
“Yeah, where are they?” Emma asked, staring down Carter. She hadn’t bothered looking at the proposal; in fact she seemed edgy, as if something was on her mind.
“They’ll be here soon. I gave us a half an hour before they get here so we could have all our ducks in a row. We need to be on the same page when they arrive.”
Emma said tightly, “That’ll be a trick.”
Carter met her stony gaze. “This is serious.”
“Everything is with you,” she responded. She grabbed up the papers and started leafing through them. “Let’s see what you have planned. Oh great. The Carreras’ names are all over this.” She dropped the pages on the table.
Sensing fireworks were about to explode, Andi tried to ameliorate. “I’ll look through the papers, but I haven’t changed my mind about the Carreras.”
“This is what’s best for the company,” Carter insisted.
“Best for the company?” Emma repeated, her voice rising. “What’s wrong with you, Carter? You know better. Or you should. Greg never would have gone for this.”
“Greg’s gone,” Carter said. “And we have to make some hard choices.”
“Greg’s gone because they killed him,” Emma stated flatly.
“Wait a minute,” Andi said.
Luke leaned forward in his chair. “Why do you say that?”
“Are you insane?” Carter threw back at her. “Of course they didn’t—”
“You think that ‘accident’ just happened?” Emma practically shouted. “Because Greg was tired, or had a little too much to drink, or got confused or something? He’d driven that road a thousand times. No way would he have just missed the curve.”
“Emma,” Ben said, reaching for her arm, but she yanked it away.
“This is between me and my brother! He’s looked at Greg’s death as a gift.”
Carter blanched. “That is not true.”
“Honey, maybe you should calm down,” Ben said. “This is upsetting and maybe you had a little drink before you came here and—”
“I’ve never been more sober in my life.”
Silence followed. Everyone stared at her. Finally, Emma said, “Those thugs . . . murdered our brother. Somehow they forced him off the road, and by God, I am not—we are not—doing business with them. Not on this project, not on any project.” She was shaking by this time, her face red, her fists clenched in conviction.
Luke asked, “How do you know this?”
“She doesn’t,” Carter shot back angrily. “She’s grasping at straws. What the hell’s wrong with you, Emma? Is your brain pickled from all the booze?”
Emma’s eyes widened in hurt, and Ben jumped in. “Hey now, we don’t need to go there.”
“Sure we do.” Carter wasn’t having any of Ben’s arguments. “Emma, we’re kin. You and me. We’re together on this. We need the Carreras to preserve the company.”
“You’ve thought I would side with you from the beginning, but I can’t. Think about it, Carter. About how it all came down.”
“How am I supposed to keep us afloat? We don’t have the money!”
Emma turned to Andi. “We’re not doing business with them.”
“We’re not,” Andi agreed.
Carter tried to interrupt, but Emma overtalked him. “That bastard Blake called me last night.”
Ben’s head whipped around. “What?”
“He scared the shit out of me,” Emma said.
“Did he threaten you?” Luke asked.
“He just made it clear we needed to do business with them.” She glared at Carter. “So you figure something else out because I’d rather die than deal with those bastards.” She scraped her chair back and started for the door. Ben scrambled to follow.
Carter entreated, “Wait, Em. You can’t just walk out.”
“Like hell.” She stormed out the door and Ben, looking backward, threw them all an apologetic look as he trailed after her. Their footsteps faded and Andi heard the elevator ding before the car collected them.
/> “Are you fucking kidding me?” Carter threw back his head and closed his eyes for a second, as if he could conjure up a different ending to his conversation with Emma. “Sober my eye. Takes somebody drunk to act like that.”
“I agree with her,” Andi said.
“You believe the Carreras were behind Greg’s accident? Oh, come on, Andi. You’re better than that.” The elevator dinged again before Andi could retort, and Carter muttered, “Oh great. They’re here. Now what? What will we tell them?” He was suddenly desperate. “We have to sign with them, Andi. It’s imperative.”
She shook her head. What really had been said between Blake and Emma? She thought again of the note she’d received in the willow wreath this morning, so much subtler than whatever had occurred between Blake and Emma. No, the coy notes had much more finesse, a secret little smug quality that wasn’t the Carrera brothers’ style. She remembered her meeting on the treadmills with Brian. An upfront and in-your-face kind of intimidation.
Hearing a double set of footsteps in the hallways, Andi braced herself for the inevitable showdown. Carter drew a breath and Luke grew very still as they all turned to the door.
Scott and Mimi Quade appeared in the conference room doorway.
“What the fuck?” Carter said.
“We need to settle this,” Scott stated coldly, his gaze taking in Andi and Luke. He frowned, clearly not liking what he saw. Mimi seemed to curl in upon herself. Her baby bump was still in evidence. Scott threw out his chest and declared to Carter, “We’ve got a problem. Your problem.”
Mimi whimpered and Scott grabbed her arm, as if willing some starch into her spine.
“There is no problem,” Luke said before Carter could really get going. “Because there is no pregnancy.”
Scott stayed focused on Carter. “Mimi’s having Greg’s baby,” he insisted.
“Luke found you out,” Carter said calmly.
Scott blinked, but went on, “Your brother knocked up my sister.”
Luke said, “Why don’t we ask Mimi?”
They all looked at Mimi, who started shaking as if an earthquake had hit.