His coffee fix fulfilled, Hunter sat in his office reviewing case files, notes, coroner reports, and everything else available in preparation for testimony he would soon be giving, provided everything for the trial went as planned. He was the agent who pursued and arrested Mack Finley for the double murder of two Louisiana state policemen who pulled him over for a broken tail light. They were killed due to Mack’s fear of them finding the suitcase of drugs he had in the trunk of his car. Hunter was nothing if not meticulous, and he was going to make sure Mack Finley suffered the consequences.
“How’s it going in here?” Dennis asked from the doorway of Hunter’s office, watching the focused determination on Hunter’s face.
Hunter started rifling through the files on his desk. “I could swear I’m missing something. Part of the coroner’s report.”
Dennis let Hunter do his search and destroy for the missing document. It only took about a minute before Hunter pulled a sheet of paper out from under the keyboard, then he lifted his eyebrows to Dennis with a what-can-I-do-for-you expression. Dennis pushed himself out of the doorway and took a chair in front of Hunter’s desk. Hunter didn’t like the look on Dennis’s face; it was the look that said he didn’t want to have to be the one to talk to Hunter about something, but he was the only one who could. It was the look Hunter received when Dennis told him about Amy. No, he did not like this look.
“So?” Hunter asked, trying not to sound put out or impatient. “Spit it out, man.”
“You been watching the news lately?”
“I catch a piece here or there when I think about it. Why?”
Dennis lightly tossed a file on Hunter’s desk, upsetting his organized chaos. Dennis sat silently as Hunter apprehensively picked up the file folder and cracked it open. The first thing he saw was a police report completed and submitted by the State of Colorado, County of Boulder. It was obvious that it was a homicide report; there would be no reason for Hunter to receive any other kind. The report cited a hit and run, and witness accounts said that nobody saw anything except some kind of car, maybe a truck, maybe a sedan. It could have been a moped for as much as these so-called witnesses paid attention. There were photographs that made him catch his breath and threw him back in time. Unfortunately, this was not the first time photographs like this had opened up old wounds that he couldn’t seem to close.
Hunter looked at Dennis, desperately trying not to take his anger out on him. “How long have you had this?”
“Came in about an hour ago. Boss gave it to me to look through before showing it to you.”
“How does it feel always having to be the one breaking news like this to me?” Hunter asked.
“Sucks ass, man, but I’m the only one who can give you bad news.” Dennis cracked a smile. “Everyone else thinks you’re a dick.”
Hunter shook his head and let a chuckle escape under his breath, thankful for Dennis trying to make him smile while simultaneously hitting him with another Black Rose Murder. He picked through the photos and sucked in his breath when he found the one he was looking for. The picture was exactly what he expected and told him everything he needed to know. It was, of course, the black rose with the letter P on the victim’s back—the same tattoo that showed up in six other files that had come across his desk over the past six years. The same tattoo his wife had.
“This is the seventh,” Dennis pointed out, and received a look that said Hunter already knew that piece of information.
The first murder known to law enforcement occurred at a home improvement store in Indiana where a woman bearing the tattoo was gunned down while standing in line to pay for her painting supplies. Then Amy was murdered, followed by two in California who were found hanging from the second story balcony of a shopping mall at Christmastime. Next was a home invasion in Ohio, and another in New Jersey who had been shot while standing in line at the ATM outside her bank during a lunch break by somebody who knew exactly how to avoid all the security cameras. Finally, this soccer mom from Colorado. Seven women in the past six years, all with the same tattoo, all very public deaths, and all with witnesses who had given useless statements. All with no leads.
It was no secret that these cases were taken personally by Hunter.
“The profilers…” Dennis began, but was cut off by the look Hunter gave him.
Not bothering to hide the anger, Hunter let out a disgusted scoff. “Profilers. In six goddamn years the profilers don’t have anything fresh to say. They’re as clueless as the rest of us. Every time we think we have a lead, every time we think we have a name, every time we think we have something, we come up empty. And it pisses me off!” With rage running through his veins, Hunter forcefully swept his arm across his desk, upsetting everything on it. Papers and pictures floated in the air until they landed softly on the floor. His nameplate and pencil holder hit the wall. His keyboard hit the floor. His computer monitor wobbled on its stand.
Judd happened to walk into Hunter’s office at the same time that Hunter kicked his desk and yelled to nobody in particular, “Fuck!”
Stunned, Judd looked from Hunter to Dennis. Dennis shrugged and gave Judd the look that said everything would be okay, but it would be best to turn around and leave the room immediately. Fortunately for Judd, he took the hint and left as quickly as he had arrived.
Hunter let out a calming breath. “I’m good.”
Dennis stood to leave and nodded his head in understanding, looking at the papers and desk supplies strewn on the floor. “You know I’m not helping you clean any of this shit up, right?”
Hunter looked around his office, hands on his hips. “Maybe I should call Fowler back in here. Have him clean it up.”
Dennis left Hunter’s office knowing Hunter would eventually be fine until the next file landed on his desk. Then it would start all over again.
Chapter 21
The Pawtucket Falls, a mile-long set of rapids, were located in Lowell, Massachusetts and just happened to be one of Matthew’s favorite places. The University of Massachusetts was also located in Lowell and was the venue of choice for where the governor decided to honor Matthew Parnell, once again, for his generous humanitarian services to the community and the state.
The city purchased ten acres with the intention of building a new community recreation center for after school programs and a place for children of university students to go while their parents attended classes. Once the land had been purchased, however, the anticipated funding for the project had been canceled. The city had no idea why the funding had been withdrawn, but Matthew did—he had heard about the project, pulled a few strings, and called in a few favors. Within two months of the project being put on hold, Matthew swooped in like a super hero to save the day and donated three-quarters of the funds needed to make the center happen. Finally, it was time to celebrate the opening. Giving a humble smile, Matthew put the scissors to the ribbon, flashed a glimmering smile at the crowd, and said, “It is my privilege to admit you entrance into your new kingdom.”
Children cheered as they ran for the playground, parents merged toward the food, and politicians puffed out their chests for photographs as Matthew graciously excused himself and made his way over to Mr. Crescent, who had been patiently waiting in the background with Tucker.
“He’s here, sir.”
He being someone who owed Matthew either an explanation or payment for a very large shipment of casino money to be washed that had not yet reached its destination. Either way, the man was going to bleed.
“Excellent, Mr. Crescent,” Matthew said as he lit a cigar. “Find me at the reception at the boathouse when you’re done. I think the falls are a particularly wonderful sight to see. Not a required point of interest, just a suggestion.”
Crescent and Tucker left for their errand while Matthew stood alone with his thoughts. Matthew was very good at what he did and won every battle he undertook. Had Wyatt still been with him, Matthew probably wouldn’t even be halfway to where he was today. Wyatt Lundy w
as selfish, entitled, and useless as a business partner. He knew he was better off with Wyatt gone these many years.
Even though Matthew had met most of his current goals, he had one goal that he was running out of patience to attain. The more he thought about it, the more he planned. The more he planned, the more obsessed he got. He knew the only way he would get what he wanted was for David to step down and pass the scepter to him, but he also knew there was only one way David would do that. His daughter would have to come back into the fold. She was the key to get to David. Matthew had been looking for her for eight years, with no luck and no leads.
And it infuriated him.
***
Matthew was surrounded by a small circle of admirers when he caught a glimpse of Madeline exiting the main room of the boathouse. Before disappearing from view, she turned her head, locked eyes with him, and offered an inviting grin. Always suspicious of her, Matthew politely took his leave from his company and followed her outside.
The light of the setting sun glistened on the water and, for a brief moment, Matthew smiled inwardly, enjoying one of the few places that brought him contentment. But his bliss was shattered when he saw Madeline at the far end of the deck, casually leaning against the railing, holding a glass of champagne, watching him with that smile on her face. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, shimmering with gold flakes from the reflection of the sun on the water.
No matter how many times he had suppressed his desire for her, it still surprised him how she could draw him near her with just a look. He also instinctively knew that behind those sly eyes and seductive smile she had something else in mind, which was her ulterior motive for being there and luring him outside. Her close-lipped smile widened slightly as he stopped in front of her, took her right hand, and softly planted a kiss.
“Always the gentleman, Mr. Parnell.”
He straightened and smiled back. “When necessity calls for it, Ms. Frost.”
Ignoring his rebuff, Madeline took a sip of her champagne. “It was a lovely ceremony, Matthew.”
“Mmm,” he replied suspiciously.
“Don’t worry. Nobody took your spotlight away. We others were simply thanked with a letter and a cursory acknowledgment.”
Matthew cast a casual glance at his watch as if his time were being wasted, knowing his indifference made Madeline’s blood boil. It amused him to watch her push her irritation aside in order to keep her composure. While she always experienced unexplained delight in rattling him and knowing she was tempting to him, she was there for a specific purpose, which was obvious with her sudden mood change as she angrily turned on him.
“You have broken a promise to me, Matthew. We have mutually benefited from each other over the years—you more than I. Because of my help when you were in need, you promised that my share in Atlantic City would increase forty percent. That was eight years ago, and my share has only risen twenty-seven percent. Twenty-seven percent, Matthew. And then, yesterday, I receive a call from Atlantic City saying that my services won’t be needed any longer because you,” she quickly jabbed him in the chest with her index finger, the tip of her nail slightly digging into his chest, “apparently changed our arrangement without discussing it with me.”
Matthew couldn’t help but form an amused smile on his face, further infuriating Madeline, which only made his smile widen. He didn’t think it was possible, but she was actually becoming more beautiful the angrier she was getting, and the angrier she got, the more he wanted her. Under normal circumstances, Matthew’s reaction to her outburst would have made her try to tease and titillate him to no end. His silence, however, just made it more difficult for her to calm down.
“I have helped you more than once over the years, Matthew. I have always kept my word and my promises. It’s time you do the same.”
Matthew carefully contemplated his response. At one point he had intended she receive her forty percent slowly, over time, simply as a courtesy for her help in the past. If it wasn’t for her, he would have suffered a severe temporary loss of business. On the other hand, he never would have even had to consider engaging her services had it not been for his runaway daughter.
Matthew saw Crescent soberly standing by the entrance to the boathouse, nodding to indicate his errand was complete. Matthew took the opportunity to take his leave and said, “I will speak to my associates in Atlantic City.”
As he turned to walk away, Madeline grabbed him by his arm. “That’s it?”
Matthew turned back to Madeline and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. It wasn’t the kind of kiss he often thought about giving her, but it was the only one that would ever do with this woman. “Get home safely.”
Leaving Madeline to stew in her spurned rage, Matthew got comfortable in the back of his car, where Crescent and Tucker waited. “My money, Mr. Crescent?”
“Recovered, sir.”
Matthew quickly looked between his two men, Tucker smiling like he’d just won the lottery and Crescent obviously proud of a job well done. After a heartbeat, Matthew asked, “And Mr. Wells?”
Crescent let out a contented sigh. “The falls are quite a sight to see, although I got the distinct impression Mr. Wells wasn’t as enthusiastic about them as I was.”
“Well,” Matthew said while lighting a cigar, “one can’t truly appreciate the beauty of the falls while having their head held under them.”
Chapter 22
On her first day of work, Chloe was in no way prepared for the cosmic bitch slap that would gut punch her when the elevator doors opened and she locked eyes with the Kellers’s full-time receptionist back from vacation. The blood drained from the receptionist’s face like she was looking at a ghost. Chloe was speechless as she intently locked eyes with this woman—one with an innocent and carefree smile, sun-washed blonde hair, and hazel eyes she had known so well, and shared secrets with, a lifetime ago. A woman she once considered to be her best friend, who had come to her a scared and confused girl of eighteen years that Chloe had protected, cared for, and loved. A woman she had implicitly trusted and then selfishly abandoned, leaving her to the cruelty of Matthew Parnell. Chloe had thrown this woman to the wolves in order to save herself and now she was being forced to face her past.
“Fucker bitch.” Realizing what she had said, Alice Jenkins looked around the lobby to make sure nobody heard her, then turned back to Chloe, the shock slowly being replaced with cautious elation at seeing each other again. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The wrecking ball in her gut was loosening its grip on Chloe as she responded. “I could ask the same of you.”
“I work here.”
“So do I.”
Alice opened her mouth to respond when Walter entered the room and changed the atmosphere between the two old friends. From the look on Alice’s face, Chloe knew she and Alice were on the same page to temporarily pretend it was just another typical Monday morning.
“Ms. Riggs,” Walter said, shaking Chloe’s hand.
In her peripheral view, Chloe saw Alice shoot her a questioning look. Riggs?
“Mr. Keller.” Chloe had always been able to act for the appropriate moment and she was doing it exceptionally well at that moment.
Walter started laughing. “I bet you’re glad to know that our Ms. Morris is back from vacation.”
It was now Chloe’s turn at a silent question. Morris?
Chloe had to get out of the lobby and away from Alice for the time being in order to focus her attention on Walter. “I look forward to spending time with Ms. Morris. In the meantime, shall we get started?”
***
It wasn’t until after the lunch hour that Chloe was face to face with Alice, staring in disbelief. The next thing Chloe knew, Alice was crossing the room and fiercely embracing her. Chloe returned the hug and realized how much she had missed Alice. Chloe broke the hug and they sat across the table from each other with a mix of emotions that included suspicion, happiness, and confusion.
Chlo
e finally spoke. “When did you leave?”
“About a year after you,” Alice said. “I saw a produce delivery truck in the back alley behind the kitchen and I thought to myself, ‘I would love to hide in that truck and just disappear.’ A few days later, I was gone.”
Alice continued her story of how she had sworn Michelle and Saffron to secrecy, telling them Renee was gone and giving them all the means to escape if they wanted to. Chloe could tell by the look on Alice’s face, and the way she spoke, that Alice was talking about emotional demons she had never talked about before and would rather leave untouched and locked away. Matthew was apparently furious when he came home and found his daughter gone, turning to her friends for answers. When he didn’t get the information he wanted, it was Crescent’s turn to interrogate her friends.
The thought of Crescent being let loose on the girls left Chloe choking for air. She wanted to tell Alice to stop talking, that she didn’t want hear about the hell they had gone through because of her sudden and selfish desertion. She never imagined her father would take it as far as he did and it made her want to throw up.
Alice’s voice was somber and distant, the pain of memories written all over her face. “We would get called into his office one at a time, and every time, both Crescent and Tucker were waiting for us. When we wouldn’t tell them anything…what Crescent and Tucker did wasn’t just a consequence of you leaving, it was also a consequence of me keeping my mouth shut. I could have told them everything I knew, but I didn’t. I never did.”
They sat in silence for a few moments. The shock of unexpectedly seeing Alice again and learning of the aftermath of her disappearance bounced through Chloe’s mind like rocks skipping on the water. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Alice was feeling, but Chloe now knew one thing for sure—her friends all suffered more than they should have because she left.
Chloe didn’t know what she could say that would ever take Alice’s pain away and her gut painfully churned when she heard Alice’s next words. “Charlotte died.”
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