Jan Coffey Suspense Box Set: Volume Two: Three Complete Novels: Road Kill, Puppet Master, Cross Wired

by Jan Coffey

  “You can take a nap on our way there. I’ll drive.” He put a hand on the small of her back, pushing her toward the door. She felt the heat of his fingers through her cotton shirt.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, moving despite her common sense.

  He mentioned a steak house in Litchfield.

  She looked down at her clothes. Old jeans and a plaid oxford shirt. “Can I at least go change?”

  “So long as you don’t fall asleep upstairs. I’m not beyond coming up after you. And then I might just bite.”

  His voice poured over her with suggestiveness. The ex-detective, private investigator, Gavin MacFadyen was going for the kill and she was playing along with it.

  The prospect was thrilling and terrifying. Lacey didn’t know if she should jump with joy or go dig a hole six-feet deep to hide in until he gave up on her. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll wait in the car. Keep your bedroom shade open.”

  CHAPTER 20

  The sun sinking in the west burst like flames through the brilliantly colored trees. Beyond them, the light shimmered across the surface of the blood red lake. Instead of heat, a chill rose from the glassy surface on every breeze, brushing across skin and scalp, cutting through to the bone, a reminder that winter and death lay ahead.

  Following a well-trodden path along the shoreline, the lines of a Poe story ran through Judge Green’s head, as they had a thousand times before.

  I vowed revenge. I must punish…

  An enemy lured into a wine cellar during Carnival. Revenge. Brick by brick, walling in a fool. Revenge.

  The deep lines on the weathered face. The hollow eyes of a lost soul. The stooped shoulders of a broken man. This wandering phantom had little in common with the confident, powerful man who once presided from the bench of the state’s courts.

  He cared about none of that now. He wanted only one thing.

  Judge Green stopped. A black stream lay just ahead, descending from the wooded hills. Rushing through a smoothed rock channel, dropping to a pool, and then flowing quickly through a jumble of boulders, the sound of the gurgling water blocked out any other noise. It was the sound of a girl’s blood pumping from a severed vein.

  He looked out at the lake as the sun cast one final ray of light across the water before dropping below the line of distant hills. And then shadow enveloped it all.

  I vowed revenge. I vowed revenge.

  CHAPTER 21

  Gavin looked from the white-knuckled hands twisted in Lacey’s lap to her silhouette as she gazed out the window of the car. She was afraid and he didn’t blame her. He’d tried to lighten the mood any chance he got, but her worry was legit. Lacey’s past had been well south of normal or safe, a far cry from anything he would wish on his worst enemy. And now—lonely, aching with grief, and afraid—she was trying to hold herself together.

  His attraction to her was growing. He’d already decided he wanted more than sex. He knew in some ways it was his stupid male need to protect, the hardwired desire to give her a shoulder to cry on and to fill the obvious void she had in her life, but there was something else going on in him as well. He could feel it.

  But he had to be patient. She was a runner. And he knew all about being a runner. His sister, Elsie, had been one.

  “We’re here,” he said quietly, pulling into a parking space on the street in front of the restaurant.

  She unclipped the seatbelt and pulled the visor down, taking a quick peek at her face before pushing it back up.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and got out of the car before he could come around to help her.

  Gavin had called before they left her house and, since it was Friday night, the only available seating was in the bar. He’d eaten here a number of times before. The food was decent and the menu was the same, regardless of where they served you.

  Lacey stayed in his shadow as they were ushered through the crowded restaurant. When they reached one of the tables lining the wall, she chose the seat facing the wall, giving him the view of the restaurant.

  “Is this okay?” he asked her.

  “It’s great.”

  He helped her shed the fleece jacket she was wearing, thoroughly appreciating the red, low-neck sweater she wore over jeans. Too bad he hadn’t talked her into ordering take-out. There was plenty of the room on the sofa in the living room for the two of them.

  “I can’t remember the last time I went out for dinner.”

  Before taking his own seat, Gavin shot an annoyed glare at a loud foursome of men standing by the bar a few feet away. The two facing them were eying Lacey with too much interest.

  “You and Terri spent every weekend together after you came back to Connecticut. Don’t tell me that cheapskate wouldn’t go out to eat.”

  “You can’t be talking this way about my sister.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He nodded as a busboy brought glasses of water for them. “She always packed her lunch. Brought coffee from home. She wouldn’t go out for lunch or for drinks after work for anything unless she was sure someone else was picking up the tab.”

  “She must have had her reasons because she was very generous when it came to me.”

  “Cheapskate,” he repeated.

  A hint of a smile touched her lips. “We didn’t go out because we had a lot of work to do on the house. Redoing the bathroom, the kitchen. Painting inside and out. So we ordered in a lot. But I also like to cook. I did a lot of it for the two of us.”

  “Seriously?” He deadpanned. “I’ve seen you in action in the kitchen.”

  “Hey,” she drawled, her smile widening. “I was angry this morning. That was therapy.”

  “Yeah. I heard you.”

  “I’m actually a decent cook when I set my mind to it. Sometime maybe I’ll cook for you so you can judge for yourself.”

  Gavin found himself staring. He loved it when she let her guard down. His gaze moved down the stretch of her neck to the neckline of the sweater and a small patch of black lace peeking above. She had perfect breasts. Easy, champ, he told himself, glancing around.

  The waitress glided up, ready to take their drink orders. Lacey was fine with the water. He ordered a beer.

  “You don’t drink?” he asked.

  “I haven’t for a long time. Not since…not since it’s been legal for me to drink. No alcohol, no drugs.” She shrugged, reaching for the water glass. “I don’t miss them either.”

  “Do you mind that I ordered a beer?”

  “Not at all. Terri drank. But she always brought her own to the house.”

  He watched her sip the water. A droplet clung to her lip. The flame of the candle burning in the hurricane lamp on their table danced a shadow between them. She had one of those faces that, the more you looked at it, the more you appreciated the symmetry, the exotic way it all fit together. Without even trying, she was a stunner.

  “You stare at me a lot. Is that because I look like Terri?” she asked, her emerald gaze locking with his.

  “You don’t look like Terri.”

  “Sure we do. Everyone said so.”

  “Then they were being generous to your sister,” he said frankly. “There are some similarities, but I thought I’d made it clear why I stare at you.”

  Lacey blushed, her gaze following the movement of her fingers as she reached for the glass of water again. “Terri told me you were divorced.”

  “So she talked about my personal life with you,” Gavin said. “And what dark secrets did she tell you?”

  “None. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s none of my business. It—”

  “No. I’m glad you did,” he said, interrupting her. “Yes, I was married and divorced in my late twenties. It lasted less than two years.”

  The arrival of the waitress with his drink curtailed that conversation. Neither of them had looked at the menu. Rather than sending her away, Lacey took a quick glance and placed her order. Gavin ordered what he always ha
d.

  “Where were we?” he asked, liking the fact that she was interested enough to bring up his personal life.

  “I’m paying for dinner,” she said instead. “Also, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me some kind of ballpark figure of your fee.”

  “I told you last night. You’re not paying me.”

  “Last night it was not as complicated as it is now. You already spent the day with me. You found me an attorney.”

  “Stop.” He reached for her hand across the table and took it firmly in his own. “This is not a business dinner. You aren’t going to hire me to do what I’m already doing.”

  “But—”

  “No billable hours. No talk of money. This is a friend helping a friend. That’s what this is. I’d appreciate it if you’d just accept that.”

  “That arrangement might have worked with Terri since you two were partners. She would have somehow reciprocated. But with me, I don’t know how I can repay you. So, no thanks.”

  “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

  “I consider that a compliment.” She smiled, freeing her hand and hiding it under the table.

  “Well, it wasn’t,” he said in mock criticism. He studied her for a moment longer, forcing his mind to follow a professional track. “Okay, I have an idea. All the jobs I’ve landed so far have been through word-of-mouth. We’ll barter this deal. You can help me with a promotional package for my business. Something like flyers, advertising, what should go on the webpage. I haven’t done anything like that. I could use something classy.”

  “So no people in handcuffs.”

  “No. And no shots of gorgeous, naked women through their bedroom windows either.”

  She bit her bottom lip, a blush spreading on her cheeks. “That’s good to know.”

  “Not as high-rent as a Pinkerton marketing campaign, but a little more professional than some college kid playing Sherlock Holmes.”

  “No Sherlock Holmes.” She smiled. “You may lose some British royals from your client list.”

  “I’m willing to risk that.” He got serious. “Right now, I’m doing event security to pay the rent. But the area I’d really like to get into is investigating missing persons.” He wondered for a moment if Terri had told her about his little sister.

  “That’s sounds like a pretty dignified way of making money in your business. Will that pay the rent?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see how good your flyers are. Deal?”

  She nodded. They both went silent when their waitress came back with a basket of bread.

  “How about you?” he asked. “Do you see yourself continuing to build the photography business?”

  She shrugged. “Buying Brett Orr’s business was an excuse for my sister and me to get back together. But now, with Terri gone, I’m not sure what I’m doing back here in Connecticut. So I don’t know. And I might not have much of a choice once that reporter tells everyone who I am.”

  “You might be giving her too much credit. The people in Westbury might already know who you are. Maybe they don’t care.”

  “There are a lot of new families in town. I’d put my money on the fact that most people don’t know of my past. I guarantee that my life will be different after my past is exposed. It’ll be miserable.”

  She took a piece of bread and made a production of buttering it, but then left it untouched on the plate.

  “If you were going to move, where would you go? Back to the Midwest?” he asked.

  “No. There’s nothing for me there, either. Never was.”

  “I remember Terri mentioning you were going to school.”

  “Part time. Community college. And then later, state college,” she told him, playing with the same piece of bread. “I got my degree, but there were no jobs, so I went back and took all these classes in photography. I never belonged out there. I never built a foundation. No career. No friends or community. Nothing even close to it. I’m not sure I want to go back to that.”

  She needed something permanent. A steady, healthy relationship. At one time, the circumstances of Lacey’s life would have had him steering clear. But right now, it was having the opposite effect.

  “You know, this is the difference between me and my sister. Terri always knew what she wanted to do. Who she wanted to be. Where to live. Today, tomorrow, five years down the road, or fifty. She was a planner and a doer. She had a good, reliable road map for everything she did. At the opposite end of the spectrum, there’s me. I’m pretty good at acting on impulse, avoiding conflict, and not making decisions. Commitment really hasn’t been my thing. It still isn’t.”

  Gavin wondered if the last was intended as a warning. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been through a lot.”

  “You don’t have to make excuses for me,” she said in an earnest tone. “I’m thirty-one years old. There are no safety nets left. I have to live in the real world.”

  He wanted to tell her that, considering the circumstances of her teenage years, she’d done pretty well. But Gavin knew that wasn’t what she needed right now. Still, she also didn’t need to wallow in more gloom.

  “Thirty-one. That’s all?” he asked instead, snatching the bread she’d buttered off her plate and taking a bite of it before putting it on his own plate. “I didn’t realize I was robbing the cradle by asking you out.”

  She watched him with some amusement. “How old are you? Sixty-five?”

  Gavin almost choked on the bread. “You know how to hurt a guy.”

  She leaned her elbows on the table, smiling. “I was just kidding. You were at the minimum age when you opted for the twenty-year retirement plan. So how old are you now? Forty-two, forty-three?”

  “Forty-three,” he told her.

  “That’s safe enough. I doubt you’ll croak on me at dinner.”

  The image of the two of them locked away in a bedroom flashed in his mind. His gaze moved down to the neckline of the sweater again.

  “I won’t croak on you anytime…or doze off in my rocker, either. I’m Watkins Coffee-fortified and ready to go all night.”

  She laughed and sipped her water. “You’re bad.”

  “Thank you.”

  Their salads arrived. Lacey straightened the silverware on her placemat before looking up at him again. “I do have a question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What’s your impression of me?”

  This was no sexual overture. She was serious. A lot of what Gavin knew of her had been shaped by what he’d learned from Terri. But last night and today had given him ideas of his own, too.

  “Do I answer that as a man…or as a potential client?” he asked.

  “Client, of course. Didn’t you just ask me to help with your marketing?”

  “Yes, I did,” he replied, though he’d have preferred to go the other way.

  “Being a business owner is still new to me,” she pressed. “I need to know whether I come across as professional and confident. As someone people can trust to do a good job. And please forget how I treated that reporter this afternoon. I should have done a better job of controlling my temper.”

  “I already hired you, didn’t I? So I’d say you are all of that.”

  She waved him off and took the rest of her bread back, this time nibbling on it. “You had an ulterior motive for hiring me.”

  She’d guessed.

  Gavin didn’t have a chance to say anything more as a white-haired couple led through the bar by a hostess came to a full stop at their table.

  “Lacey! What a small world. I was just telling Barb this afternoon that we should swing by your house and see how you’re doing these days.”

  Gavin was introduced to Brett Orr and his wife. Busybodies, for sure, but openly caring. They wanted to know everything that she’d been up to and what Gavin’s connection was to her. Lacey was polite and personable. At the same time, she didn’t make any mention of the problems she’d had this week.

  “Can we sit here at
this table?” Brett asked the hostess, motioning at the open table next to theirs.

  Gavin didn’t miss the disappointed glance Lacey sent him.

  CHAPTER 22

  More than a dozen luxury cars lined the circular driveway of the stately waterfront house. The place belonged to Bratva, or rather to a paper corporation created by the crime boss’s lawyers. Three valets stood together at the front steps, smoking and waiting for new arrivals. The house and drive were both invisible from the road, hidden by stone walls and a stretch of dense evergreens. The gated entrance of the property was blocked by an SUV with two armed men inside.

  Select invitees paid premium prices to attend events held here. Tonight promised high-stakes gambling, plenty of recreational drugs, and a nice selection of young women, girls, and boys to satisfy each guest’s particular tastes.

  It was early yet. Most of the people on tonight’s guest list had yet to arrive. But as always, there were a few who’d stopped in before going on to other engagements.

  Bonnie, one of the managers overseeing tonight’s event, was in the butler’s pantry off the kitchen when her walkie-talkie crackled to life. She was needed upstairs. As she started toward the mansion’s back stairs, she knew right away the trouble had to be in the bedroom overlooking Long Island Sound.

  It was always him.

  The client, a gentleman in his sixties, was a bruiser who liked to play rough with the girls. His escort, just fourteen, had been brought up from Maryland this past week.

  A second call advised that she should hurry.

  The timing could not have been worse. People were arriving. A disturbance could have them bolting for their cars.

  She ran upstairs.

  “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” the heavyset man bellowed in the open doorway to the bedroom before turning around and spotting Bonnie hurrying down the hall.

  Two of her assistants were standing across the hallway, looking helpless.

  “What the hell is this?” he shouted. “Listen to this racket. She sounds like a wounded animal. And I can’t shut her up.”