“Honor among thieves? How the hell did someone know you were giving them the right amount?”
“Because the person talking to me knew exactly how much shit was given to me, what I can sell it for, and what their take was going to be after I had my cut. They had it figured out to a fuckin’ penny. Plus, I got the feeling they were the kind of people that I shouldn’t fuck with. Fine with me… I was gettin’ plenty out of the deal.”
“Who delivered the shit to you?”
“Just got a first name.”
“And?”
“Dude named Jerry. Don’t know his last name, but they call him Jerry D.”
Shooting Alex a quick glance, he stood and walked out of the interview room, pissed that he hadn’t brought everything in with him. Moving to the evidence board, he looked at the small notes they had tacked to the side. Joe Parson’s brother’s name was Jeremiah. Jeremiah Dempsy. Grabbing his phone, he called the lab. “The boxes brought in from Kilton Pharmaceuticals that we got from Raphael’s place this morning. I know you’re going to check fingerprints through more databases, but was there a match with Jeremiah Dempsy? He’s had priors, so he’s in the system.”
Waiting for them to call back, he grinned when he gained an affirmative. Back in the interview room, he sat down and pierced Raphael with a hard gaze. “Okay, so we know who delivered the boxes to you. Now tell us how the payments go.”
“I get a call. Shit’s dropped off by Jerry D. I get another call and only deal with one person. They tell me where to meet, and I start making sales. As soon as money comes to me, I turn around and start paying.”
“Seems like a lot of trust. He’s actually trusting you to keep making payments?”
“Fuck, man. These people are connected. I want to keep breathing, I pay.”
“Got a name?”
Scrubbing his hand over his face, Raphael grimaced. Sighing heavily, he said, “I don’t know his whole name. He goes by Solten.”
Kyle shot another glance toward Alex and nodded. Finally, the fuckin’ loose ends are coming together.
Kyle and Alex had interviewed Roger Solten after Jon Ying mentioned his contact. They’d run a check on him that came back clean. At the time, they just wanted to verify that Hope City Linen and Uniform Service did own the truck that Mr. Ying had reported stolen. Confirming that, they’d had no other contact with him.
Now, pulling into the HC Linen building visitor parking, Kyle looked through the windshield at the warehouse-sized brick building. It was near the end of the business day, and employees were starting to leave through the main front doors. Not wanting to miss him, they hustled toward the front.
Moving to the reception desk, Alex smiled at the woman sitting on the stool, tapping on her cell phone. Her gaze lifted to Alex, then dropped to her phone before doing a quick double-take back up to him, her smile widening.
“We need to speak to Roger Solten.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen him today. Hang on,” she replied, turning to a computer screen on the counter. With a few taps of her fingers on the keyboard, she shook her head slowly. “No, he’s not in. In fact, he hasn’t been in for two days.”
Alex offered a chin lift and they turned to leave.
“Normally you could catch him after work at Hopkins Gym, down on Twenty-First Street.” She shrugged and flashed a mega-watt smile. “I could show you if you want.” She leaned her forearms on the counter, bending forward, creating the planned effect of pushing her breasts together, cleavage now showing at the neckline of her T-shirt. “I like to go and… work out, if you know what I mean.”
Alex placed his hands on his hips, pulling his jacket open just enough to show the badge clipped to his belt. “Thanks, but I think we’ve got it.”
Her gaze had dropped to his badge then back to his face as her mouth fell open.
Walking back out to the truck, Kyle chuckled. “You like doing that shit, don’t you?”
“Not a lot of perks in this job, but sometimes it’s nice to either get someone talking or get ‘em to shut up by just looking at the badge.”
They checked the gym and went by his apartment but didn’t find him. By then, their shift was over and Kyle dropped Alex off at the precinct parking lot. “We’ll pick this back up tomorrow morning. Have a good evening.”
Alex waved as he climbed into his SUV and Kyle headed home. He had received a text earlier from Kimberly letting him know that she was fixing dinner. Pushing aside thoughts of work, he grinned. He’d eat whatever she fixed, knowing it would be good, but he was especially hoping she had whipped cream for dessert.
Dressed all in dark clothing, a man slipped to the back door of the rowhouse and unscrewed the lightbulb by the door. Sliding back into the shadows, he waited for several minutes to make sure that a nosy neighbor had not seen and called the cops. The neighborhood remained quiet except for a few cars occasionally going down the street, a dog barking in the distance, and crunching near the garbage cans, indicating the possibility of mice, if not rats.
Using a crowbar, he popped open the back door and quickly moved into the house. The clock on the stove gave slight illumination to the kitchen and he walked silently into the living room and rounded the bottom of the staircase. Taking each step carefully, glad there was no squeak, he made it to what he thought was the top. Miscalculating, he stumbled on the last step, grabbing the banister to keep from falling. Heart pounding, he stayed rooted to the spot, barely breathing, listening for any movement. Not hearing a sound other than a slight snore, he continued toward the master bedroom.
He would’ve flipped on the light switch if necessary, knowing the brightness would temporarily blind his prey, but with curtains only partially closed over the window, moonlight and streetlight illuminated the lump in the bed. Pulling out his weapon, he stepped closer. Just then, the floor groaned slightly with his weight, and the sleeping owner roused.
Startled, he fired without taking proper aim. A cry from underneath the covers met his ears and he fired again while growling, “Shit, Kimberly. Shit.” Whirling around, he raced down the steps, shoving his gun into his pocket. He continued through the first floor to the door of the kitchen. As soon as he was outside, he ran down several alleys until he came to his parked vehicle. Climbing inside, he wheezed, trying to catch his breath while his insides quaked. Swallowing deeply, he attempted to slow his racing heart, concentrating on breathing.
Knowing he needed to get out of the area, he fumbled with the ignition before placing his still-shaking hands on the steering wheel. Pulling out onto the road, he drove with caution, not wanting to bring undue attention to himself. I shot her. A nervous grunt erupted from deep in his chest at the thought. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he realized he had no idea if she was alive or dead. If she was still alive, at least she wouldn’t be able to identify him.
Dragging in another shaky breath, he hated what he’d done, but was glad it was over. He was surprised they asked him to do it, but then they trusted him. Heartbeat settling as the adrenaline slowed, he continued driving, each mile allowing him to breathe easier.
Kyle jerked awake at the sound of his phone. Used to middle-of-the-night calls, he snagged his cell phone from the nightstand. Seeing Carter’s name on the ID, his heart lurched, and he barked, “Talk to me. Is it Tara? Colleen?” He flipped on the lamp next to the bed and stood, immediately stalking toward the closet.
“No, it’s neither of them. It’s Kimberly.”
His chest depressed as air rushed from his lungs, and he grabbed hold of the doorframe to steady his legs. Brow furrowed, he asked, “What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just tell me this first, Kyle. Do you know where she is?”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ looking at her right now!” His gaze bore straight at her as she sat up in his bed staring at him, confusion marring her expression.
25
Kimberly glanced at the driver’s side of the truck cab but chose to remain silent. The intense emoti
ons pouring off Kyle filled the cab, and his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel caused her to wonder how it did not snap under the pressure. Anger and fear combined into a rage that made her afraid. Not afraid for herself but for whoever he let loose on, depending on what they found once they arrived back at her rowhouse.
“You should’ve stayed at my place.”
Ice dripped from each word. Keeping calm, she replied, “I need to be here. If Bob needs me—”
“He’s already been taken to the hospital.”
She sucked in a quick breath. The idea of her neighbor being shot while sleeping rocked through her once again. Kyle had not given her much information, but from what she discerned from Carter’s call, the police had reason to believe that someone was after her. But then why go into Bob’s house? Why shoot him? She wanted to ask but knew Kyle wasn’t in the mood to talk. Turning her head, she looked out the passenger window as they hurried onto her street.
Another gasp left her lips as she viewed the number of police cars lining the area in front of the row houses. The early morning light was just beginning to cut through the night, casting the entire block with an eerie glow. Yellow caution tape had been strung up from the edge of her house to the road and around the corner, keeping the gathering onlookers at bay. Bob’s front door was open, and several people were going in and out, blue paper booties on their feet and gloves on their hands.
Kyle turned the corner by Bob’s house and parked in the middle of the blocked-off street. From here, she could see that the caution tape extended down the sidewalk by the side of Bob’s house and around the back alley to where their back doors were located. Questions flew through her mind, but she said nothing, shock making it difficult to draw enough oxygen into her lungs.
Kyle jumped down from the driver’s seat, barking a one-word order. “Stay.”
Biting her tongue to keep from screaming, ‘I’m not a dog!’, she jerked her head around and watched as he stalked toward Carter, Alex, and another man. Sighing heavily, she knew that he was right to tell her to stay in the vehicle. The stark reminder that Bob’s home was a crime scene deflated her irritation. He was shot… in bed. Closing her eyes, she sent up a hasty prayer.
The four men continued to talk, but her gaze stayed mostly pinned on to Kyle. His hands alternated between fists planted on his hips and lifting one to tear it through his hair. He finally dropped his chin to his chest and stared at his boots for a minute, and she continued to observe as the other three men shot glances toward her. Uncertain if she should disobey his order to stay, the choice was taken from her when he finally turned quickly and headed straight to her.
Opening her door, he said, “It doesn’t look like anyone broke into your place. Let’s get you off the street and into your home.”
Nodding silently, she allowed him to assist her down and dropped her keys into his outstretched hand. Avoiding the front, he led her to the back and through her fenced patio. It did not escape her notice that Carter, Alex, and the other man surrounded her completely, providing a protective barrier between her and anyone else. But why?
Kyle opened her back door and she was hustled inside, the door closed behind them. Following him through her laundry room and into the kitchen, she waited until he stopped and turned around to face her. “Kyle, honey, what’s going on?”
He stepped directly into her space and cupped her face with his hands. She held his eyes before he tilted her head down and placed his lips on her forehead, mumbling, “I’ve got you.”
Uncertain of his meaning, she didn’t have time to ask before he turned to the side, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. He nodded toward Carter, and she turned her attention to him.
“Kimberly, you know Alex, and this is Evan, my partner,” Carter began.
She offered a tremulous smile to the other detectives, clasping her hands together in front of her, glad for Kyle’s presence.
“Here’s what we know. A call was placed to 9-1-1 a little after two a.m. from a man who identified himself as Bob Trogdon, saying an intruder had shot him. He gave his address and police and rescue were dispatched. Evan and I were on call, and we got here right after the paramedics.”
“Is he… will he be…”
“He was alive and conscious, able to talk when we got here, and he’s been transported to Hope City General. He took one shot to his shoulder and another clipped his side.”
A slight growl rumbled against her side, and she twisted her head around to look up at Kyle.
Carter continued, drawing her attention back to him. “Bob was able to give us a very quick statement before they took him away. The intruder did not turn on any lights, but Bob heard a noise and moved. I would guess that either the intruder was an incredibly bad shot, incredibly nervous, or incredibly stupid by not clearly seeing his victim.”
“Or a combination of all three,” Kyle mumbled under his breath, drawing nods from the other three detectives.
She sucked in her lips, rubbing them back and forth as she tried to make sense of what they were telling her. Finally, shaking her head slowly, she said, “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand. I can’t imagine why anyone would be after Bob, and you all are acting as though this had something to do with me.”
The other men shared a look, and she twisted her head back up toward Kyle again. She spied fire in his eyes but was unable to interpret the expression. Carter called her name, and she gave her attention back to him.
“Please understand that we’ll be questioning Bob more, but he was very lucid although in pain when we talked to him. He agrees that he cannot think of anyone who would want to harm him, but what he was very clear about was what the intruder said.”
“And that was?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Shit, Kimberly.”
As she attempted to decipher the words, she shook her head slowly. “I… I don’t understand…”
“Babe,” Kyle said softly. He turned their bodies so that they were facing each other and bent closer. “Why would an intruder call Bob ‘Kimberly’ unless he thought he was talking to you?”
She jerked, but Kyle’s hands about her waist tightened to hold her in place. Continuing to shake her head, she repeated, “I don’t understand.”
“We have to look at all possible scenarios, Kimberly,” Carter said. “And one of those is that the intruder was not actually after Bob. It was dark in the room, and he simply fired at whoever was in the bed.”
Eyes wide, she gasped. “So, they might have been after me? They just went to the wrong house?” Understanding slowly dawned on her, and her eyes bugged out even further. “Me?” She shook her head with vigor. “No, no! That makes no sense!”
“Sweetheart, listen to me,” Kyle said, pulling her close to his chest, cupping the back of her head. “We don’t know, but we have to look at all possibilities.”
“But I’m nobody. Why would anybody want to shoot me?” Her legs felt like jelly, but she hated to show a sign of weakness.
“Let’s sit down,” Kyle said, and led her out of the kitchen into the living room. They sat on the sofa while Carter and Evan perched on the chairs.
“I saw you’ve got coffee pods in there,” Alex said, jerking his head back toward the kitchen. “How about I make you some coffee?”
Too stunned to think clearly, she was aware that Kyle nodded, and Alex returned to the kitchen.
“Okay, babe, this is killing me to think of anyone after you, but let’s break this down. Is there any reason you can think of why someone would want you to stay out of something?”
Shoulders slumping, she shook her head. “I don’t do anything. I go to work. I come home or go to your place. Occasionally, I get with friends.”
Carter asked, “I know you recently met with some women at the Cardboard Cottages. Did you talk to anyone else? Give your full name? Give anyone your contact information?”
Continuing to shake her head, she replied, “I only talk to those
women, and we only use first names. They know me as Kimberly, but that’s all. No phone number. No address. Nothing. They talked about their lives, and I asked a few questions, but that’s all that came from those conversations.”
“Okay, then what about your work?” Kyle asked.
“You already know about that. I’ve talked to people in just about every department at Kilton. But all I’m asking about is their jobs, what they like about it, that kind of thing.”
“Who at Kilton knows you’re doing this?” Evan asked.
Lifting her hands to the side, she sighed. “Who doesn’t know? All the vice presidents, most of the department supervisors, the people in my office and then, of course, anyone I’ve talked to. Again, there’s nothing untoward about any of it. I’ve met some interesting people, and I’ve had a few interviews where I was bored out of my mind.” Turning back to Kyle, she stared into his intense blue-eyed and squeezed his hand. “I just don’t think this can be about me.”
He looked over to where Carter and Evan were sitting. “Where are you next door?”
“Forensics is seeing what they can get. If the guy was smart, he was wearing gloves, but just in case, we’ll get fingerprints around the back door where he broke in and the railing on the stairs. It doesn’t appear that anything was taken or disturbed, so we assume that it was a hit and not a failed robbery.”
“Robbery wouldn’t make any sense anyway. Bob doesn’t keep anything special in his house.” She chewed on her lip as she ran possibilities through her mind.
“What about drugs? What about the possibility that Bob is involved in drugs? Could he have something in his house?”
Before she had a chance to refute Kyle’s question, Carter spoke up. “Forensic is doing a drug sweep as well.”
“There’s no way he was involved in drug theft! It’s not like we hang out all the time, but I’ve been inside his house. I’ve known him for four years!” she defended.
Kyle (Hope City Book 4) Page 21