Doggone

by Herkert, Gabriella

  I was exhausted. I didn’t remember ever feeling so tired. I knelt in front of him. ‘‘You’re right. Henry DeVries was a threat—if he knew about the fraud. A big if. Even then, I think Jack tried to pay it off. Without any money missing, what’s the worst that could happen to him? A slap on the wrist? Maybe?’’

  ‘‘He could lose his license. His reputation. Hell, Dreznik would kill him for that alone. Jack would have to get rid of DeVries.’’

  I couldn’t fight him anymore. ‘‘Maybe Jack did hire someone to kill him.’’

  ‘‘That’s a no-go,’’ Blue said from the doorway.

  ‘‘What?’’ Connor snapped.

  ‘‘How’s Sib?’’

  ‘‘She’s going to be okay.’’ I tried to smile. It hurt. ‘‘They’re keeping her in overnight. Just to be sure.’’

  ‘‘Why a no-go?’’ Connor asked.

  ‘‘The money in Reed’s office.’’

  I shook my head. ‘‘That’s not it. Siobhan said Jack cleaned them out. He took a lot more than we found. He could have used it to repay what he overbilled Charles Smiths. It would be simpler than murder.’’

  ‘‘Unless there are other patients we don’t know about,’’ Connor bit out. ‘‘He’s a thief. Charles Smiths probably wasn’t his only victim. An investigation would have others asking questions. The medical licensing board, the IRS, insurance companies, patients. All wanting to audit his records. Who knows how much he took over the years? It could be millions. Two hundred thou might not be nearly enough for Jack to buy his way out of trouble.’’

  I shrugged. ‘‘And DeVries had proof. Okay, maybe it was extortion, not restitution. That’s what the money was for.’’ I stood up. It made complete sense.

  ‘‘That’s a negative.’’ Blue killed my flow.

  ‘‘It makes sense.’’

  ‘‘Maybe, but it’s still wrong.’’

  ‘‘Spit it out, Blue.’’

  ‘‘Fingerprints.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘A little bird told a guy who told me that the cops found Reed’s stash in the office. It’s technically a crime scene, so they did an inventory. Ran a few tests.’’

  ‘‘And found?’’ Connor snapped.

  ‘‘Fingerprints on the money.’’

  ‘‘Whose?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘None other than Henry DeVries.’’

  Chapter Forty-six

  ‘‘He could have bribed him, then taken the money back after the hit.’’

  ‘‘Give it up, man. The pieces just don’t fit. The brothers in blue swarmed the station after the attack. No way Reed went back. He’s an asshole but he’s not stupid.’’ Blue leaned back against the ugly green upholstery.

  ‘‘He wouldn’t have kept that much cash in that neighborhood.’’

  ‘‘Troj went in the morning after. High-end security. Took him nearly twenty minutes to compromise it. Reed doesn’t have those skills.’’

  ‘‘Why did Troj go in?’’

  Blue looked at Connor.

  ‘‘Right. Of course.’’ Connor told him to. ‘‘Deep cache?’’

  ‘‘What?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘DeVries was a security nut,’’ Conner began. ‘‘Big on government evil and the likelihood that one day Big Brother would be knocking on his door. He was the kind of guy who might have a rainy day fund off the radar for that eventuality. Or something other than cash. Diamonds, guns, whatever. We thought it prudent to get a little background on DeVries after the shooting. Troj went fishing.’’

  ‘‘It was a theory. But how would Reed know?’’ Blue asked. ‘‘And it doesn’t matter since we didn’t find one.’’

  ‘‘So if that’s the case, how did Henry DeVries’s prints end up on the money?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Only one explanation,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Well, don’t keep it to yourself.’’ They looked at each other. Men. ‘‘Tell me.’’

  ‘‘The deejay gave the money to Jack,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Bigger fish.’’

  ‘‘I don’t . . . Oh. You were right. DeVries was checking it out. He thought he had something big. Valuable. Not on Jack. On Charles Smiths. The money was a bribe. But to Jack, not from him. Whatever DeVries knew, Jack could corroborate. He’s probably not that big on doctor-patient confidentiality.’’

  Blue nodded. Connor said nothing.

  Connor’s parents rushed into the waiting room.

  ‘‘Where is she? Where’s my little girl?’’ Alyssa asked with wide, scared eyes.

  We rose to greet them. ‘‘She’s in the procedure room. She needs stitches. They’ll come tell us when they’ve put her in a regular room,’’ Connor said. Dougal was ashen. Connor went over and hugged his mother. Blue moved and stood behind Dougal, patting him on the back. I didn’t know what to do.

  ‘‘What did the doctor say?’’ Alyssa asked.

  ‘‘She’s going to be all right.’’ Connor soothed. ‘‘She’s got a cut on her chin. It’s deep but not life threatening. She’s got some other cuts and bruises. She was in shock. They want to keep her in overnight. Physically, she’ll heal.’’ No mention of two attacks. Probably just as well.

  ‘‘Did they catch the bastard?’’ Dougal asked.

  ‘‘They arrested Jack.’’

  ‘‘Jack?’’ Alyssa swayed, and Dougal took one of her arms while Connor took the other. Blue disappeared.

  ‘‘Jack?’’ Alyssa’s voice was a squeak.

  ‘‘Yes.’’ I didn’t know if I should say anything. Connor was letting them think it was all Jack. What did it matter? The cut and the shock were his fault. A second attacker wouldn’t change that. He was their son-in-law, and his victim was their daughter. I doubted anything else would matter for a little while.

  ‘‘I’ll kill him,’’ Dougal said.

  ‘‘He’s already in custody,’’ Blue said, coming into the room with two cups of water. He nodded toward the couch, and Dougal took a seat next to his wife. Blue handed them the cups. ‘‘The police will deal with him. He won’t get away with what he’s done.’’

  Dougal stared at Blue. Alyssa waited for Connor to offer confirmation. A muscle twitched along his jaw.

  ‘‘He’ll be punished,’’ Connor said it gently. ‘‘Right now Siobhan needs you.’’

  ‘‘She’s right, Doug. Siobhan’s needs have to come first.’’ Alyssa pulled herself together. Her chin rose and she stood up. She pulled her husband to his feet. ‘‘No glum faces. No guilt. Just love and support.’’

  Dougal nodded at me. ‘‘Is that Jack’s work, too?’’

  Father and son wore matching grim expressions. I could tell they both wanted five minutes alone with Jack.

  Dougal’s eyes went blank for an instant, then cleared. He took a deep breath and his hands unclenched. He took his wife’s arm. ‘‘Your mother’s right. Siobhan is our first priority. Connor, call Ryan. We didn’t want to worry him until we knew what was going on. He needs to be here.’’

  ‘‘I’ll do it,’’ I offered. ‘‘There’s the doctor. I know you’ll want to talk to him.’’ I pointed. Dougal turned to stare at Connor, then Blue. When he turned back, he looked normal.

  Dougal led his wife toward the doctor. The men shook hands and they started moving down the hall.

  ‘‘Your dad wants Jack dead.’’

  Chapter Forty-seven

  ‘‘If it’s not Jack, who killed the radio star?’’ Ryan asked, sipping his coffee.

  Connor, Ryan, and I walked a block to a nearby coffee shop. Ryan was not good with hospitals.

  ‘‘I don’t know. The mob. An angry advertiser. The liberal left. Pick ’em.’’ I slumped in my chair. My fight with Connor weighed on my mind. I didn’t like fighting with him.

  ‘‘Why didn’t he bail?’’ Ryan stared into his cup. ‘‘He had fifty grand in cash, plus whatever else he took from Siobhan. He had the boat. He knew we were gunning for
him. Jack’s a coward. Why didn’t he just blow town?’’

  ‘‘He’s not that smart?’’ I guessed, dipping a French fry in ketchup.

  ‘‘No. He’s smart. He fooled us for years. I didn’t have any idea about Siobhan.’’

  ‘‘You knew he was cheating on her.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, but the rest. Hitting her?’’

  ‘‘You don’t believe today was the first time?’’

  ‘‘God, no. Do you?’’

  It defied logic, but I did believe he’d never hit her before that morning. Even then, it was more of a push. He’d grabbed me, but he’d kept his hands off Siobhan. I chewed thoughtfully. ‘‘She says he didn’t.’’

  ‘‘She said he loved her for fifteen years. She’s delusional.’’

  ‘‘That’s not funny.’’

  ‘‘Not even a little bit.’’

  Blue slid into the booth next to me, helping himself to my glass of water.

  ‘‘I’m sorry about Sib.’’

  ‘‘Thanks, man,’’ Connor said.

  I pushed the plate of fries toward him. ‘‘Whose prints were on the money?’’

  ‘‘I told you. Henry DeVries.’’

  ‘‘Who else?’’

  ‘‘Jack. He got printed for his license. They match.’’

  ‘‘And?’’

  ‘‘And nothing. Jack and the DB.’’

  ‘‘Don’t you think that’s weird?’’

  ‘‘How?’’

  ‘‘No bank teller. No grocery clerk. No gas station attendant. Fifty thousand dollars and there are only two sets of prints on them?’’

  ‘‘Connor told me they were still bundled,’’ Ryan said.

  ‘‘Okay. So maybe some machine counts the bills and puts the little tape around them. Somebody handed the money to DeVries. Somebody with fingers. Who?’’

  Ryan stretched his arms along the back of the booth. ‘‘Gloves.’’

  ‘‘Or they’ve been wiped.’’ Blue ate another fry. ‘‘Who?’’

  ‘‘Better question is why,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Why what?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘Why wipe your fingerprints off? You wouldn’t if you were just some cog in the monetary system. No need. You’d have a perfectly reasonable explanation.’’

  ‘‘The absence of any of those prints means someone thought they wouldn’t have an explanation. They wiped the explainable prints when they wiped their own.’’ Ryan leaned forward and put his arms on the table.

  ‘‘Why would our mystery money launderer need to hide their connection to that cash?’’ I asked.

  Silence. I could hear the wheels grinding.

  ‘‘Who has access to the safe?’’ Blue asked.

  ‘‘It’s not Siobhan,’’ Ryan protested.

  ‘‘Of course not,’’ I agreed.

  ‘‘Confirm. If she wanted Jack wounded, she’d have teed him up for Rock. Or Trouble, here.’’

  ‘‘Why do you keep calling me that?’’

  ‘‘It’s your call sign.’’

  ‘‘You gave me a call sign?’’

  ‘‘Connor did.’’

  ‘‘He named me Trouble?’’

  Blue and Ryan exchanged a glance. Neither one of them met my eyes.

  ‘‘Trouble. He thinks I’m trouble.’’

  Ryan rolled his eyes.

  ‘‘Who had access?’’ Blue brought us back to the point at hand. I’d have to discuss my moniker with Connor later.

  ‘‘Jack and Siobhan. The receptionist maybe,’’ Ryan guessed.

  I shook my head. ‘‘No. She didn’t seem close to the boss. Maybe the safe company?’’

  ‘‘Probably not,’’ Blue said, then stopped.

  The waitress came and refilled our water glasses. She left the check.

  ‘‘You usually set your own code.’’

  ‘‘It was obvious.’’ Blue turned to look at me. Ryan kept his head down. I held my hands up. ‘‘If someone wanted in to the safe and knew Jack well enough, he could do what we did and figure out the code.’’

  ‘‘Did he lock his door? Not the one to the street. The one to his actual office?’’

  Blue looked from me to Ryan and back.

  ‘‘Probably.’’ I sighed. ‘‘Yes. Okay. He did.’’

  Blue shook his head. He laughed softly. ‘‘Rock and the Troublemakers. You should take your act on the road.’’

  ‘‘He didn’t tell you we were there?’’

  ‘‘I was not in that office. No one saw me in that office. No one can testify that I was in that office.’’ Ryan was all innocent.

  ‘‘He was the lookout.’’ I outed Ryan.

  ‘‘Figured.’’

  ‘‘So it’s just Jack and Siobhan, and we know my sister didn’t have anything to do with it.’’

  ‘‘I’m thinking girlfriend,’’ Blue said.

  I took a bite of French fry. It was cold and rubbery. I put the other half back on the plate and pushed it away.

  Ryan’s face went stormy. ‘‘Yeah,’’ he snarled. ‘‘That fits.’’

  ‘‘And if Siobhan hadn’t picked that moment to get her dander up? What if we hadn’t followed through right away?’’

  No one spoke.

  ‘‘It plays out nearly the same,’’ Blue said. ‘‘If Jack doesn’t run, he becomes the next Pablo or Maria.’’ He looked at me. ‘‘Careful planning yields no provocation. No witnesses. Every male McNamara a viable suspect.’’ Blue stared into my eyes. ‘‘Your case, your fault.’’

  ‘‘Jack gets beaten up or killed. Siobhan takes sides. The family is caught in the cross fire. I bring death and destruction and ruin to all things McNamara. Lily gets revenge in capital letters. Against everyone.’’

  ‘‘Well, if Jack and Lily are really hitting the sheets,’’ Blue said, ‘‘the honeymoon is definitely over.’’

  Chapter Forty-eight

  ‘‘It’s not jealousy.’’

  ‘‘Lily is not out there plotting against me. Or you.’’

  Connor looked tired. Exhausted. He’d spent the night at the hospital, sending me home after midnight. With an escort, naturally. The mysterious Trojan turned out to be a dark-haired, dark-eyed, quiet guy very big on ma’am. He felt like the Secret Service, except I wasn’t Jackie O.

  ‘‘I know you don’t want to believe it.’’

  ‘‘Sara,’’ he warned. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. I could hear the shower run. I guess I wasn’t invited.

  I went to make coffee. When Connor came into the kitchen, I handed him a mug. He grimaced but took it. He set it on the counter and put his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine.

  ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

  ‘‘Tough night,’’ I said. ‘‘Don’t worry about it.’’

  He kissed my forehead and let go, saluting me with the coffee cup.

  ‘‘Are they going to let her go home today?’’

  ‘‘Yeah.’’

  ‘‘Did you get any sleep?’’

  ‘‘Not much. You?’’

  ‘‘Me either.’’ We leaned back against the counter, side by side. The silence dragged. It was uncomfortable. Maybe our first really uncomfortable silence since we’d gotten married. A milestone. Hurray.

  ‘‘I know you don’t want to hear this, Connor. . . .’’

  He shook his head, closing his eyes. ‘‘Not now.’’

  ‘‘He had to have help. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill someone. He’d need to import a spine. Who has that degree of commitment? Of malice?’’

  ‘‘Lily may be a bitch, but she’d never sink that low.’’

  ‘‘Connor, just listen—’’

  ‘‘Goddamn it, Sara,’’ he exploded.

  I stepped back. I’d seen him annoyed, frustrated, and scared. He’d never shouted. Not really.

  ‘‘Jack couldn’t—’’

  ‘‘No more,’’ he yelled.

  I stopped. Held my breath. I wanted to stop. I wanted to forget
about all of it. Henry DeVries on the sidewalk leaking blood. Pablo Esteban in a hospital bed with his daughter crying beside him. Maria with her shotgun wounds. John Doe, desperate and scared. But I couldn’t. Just because I couldn’t let it go didn’t mean I had to drag Connor along with me. His sister was hurt, inside and out. His family needed him. He needed to be there.

  ‘‘You’re right,’’ I said. ‘‘I’m sorry.’’

  He froze. I didn’t blame him. Everywhere we turned, more drama. ‘‘I shouldn’t have yelled at you.’’

  ‘‘It’s okay.’’

  ‘‘It’s not.’’ He put an arm around me and kissed me on the forehead. I swallowed back the tears. ‘‘I love you.’’

  ‘‘I love you, too.’’ I hugged him hard, then stepped away. ‘‘Are you headed back to the hospital? Ryan is picking me up, so you’ll have the car if you need it.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, I want to be there when they release her.’’

  What he really meant was that he wanted to make sure Jack wasn’t home when Siobhan got there. Who knew how fast he could get bail? ‘‘Give her my love.’’

  ‘‘Come with me.’’

  I shook my head. ‘‘I don’t want her to feel even a little uncomfortable. She’ll want just family.’’

  ‘‘You’re family.’’

  I gripped my hands behind my back, squeezing until the pain freed my breath. ‘‘Not yet, but I’m getting there.’’

  Chapter Forty-nine

  I tossed on the couch. I couldn’t bring myself to go into the bedroom to try to sleep. Connor was right. Lily. Ridiculous to think of her killing people. Cutting with sarcasm, of course, but not killing. Not her. It was even crazier to think of her as a bomb maker. Connor was where he needed to be and it wasn’t like I had concrete proof. He’d leave his family to ride to my rescue and I might once again be wrong. I hated her. I wanted her to be the source of all evil, so I was seeing it. She couldn’t shoot a guy from a moving car. Or blow up a car. That kind of expertise did not come at the Junior League.

  I sat up. She told me. Sitting in this room, Lily said it. Burglars, arsonists, and killers. I left a message. Twenty minutes later, I got a return text. One line. Time and address. No cute emoticons or incomprehensible acronyms. I started to sweat. Not calling Connor, okay. Meeting possible killers without backup—really, really stupid. I dialed but had to leave a message. Didn’t anyone answer their phone anymore?