by Karen Rose
Dr Dani rolled her eyes. ‘Of course he is. Well, I haven’t taken my lunch hour yet and I don’t have another appointment till later this afternoon, so we’ll go. I can examine your shoulder when we get back.’
Michael’s gaze shot to the coach accusingly. ‘You told her about my shoulder, too?’
‘I want you to be okay,’ the coach signed, his expression sober.
It was hard to be mad at the guy. Plus Michael was hungry. Hopefully the coach would make sure that wherever they went to eat had burgers and fries.
Cleveland, Ohio
Saturday, 16 March, 2.50 P.M.
Grant Masterson stood in his brother’s apartment, not understanding what he was looking at. He’d emptied the contents of the safe, laying each piece out on the dining room table.
Wesley wasn’t here, and hadn’t been in some time, if the expired milk in the fridge was any indication. It wasn’t until Grant had seen that all his brother’s suits were gone from his closet, along with his suitcases, that he’d opened the safe.
The combination hadn’t been difficult – 09-29-96. Their sister’s birthday. It was almost as if Wes had set it up so that Grant could easily unlock it.
No almost about it, Grant thought grimly as he stared at the stacks of cash and piles of paper. He’d counted the cash twice, not believing the total the first time.
Five hundred thousand dollars, all in crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
There was five hundred thousand dollars in his brother’s safe. Grant closed his eyes briefly. ‘What have you done, Wes?’ he murmured. Because his brother had not earned this money. Not as a cop. And not from his investments, either, because Grant did his damn taxes.
Grant’s first clue that something super-illegal was going on had been the box of latex gloves that Wes had left in the very front of the safe. Hands trembling, Grant had pulled on a pair and begun sifting through his brother’s private life.
He had found a partial answer to where Wes had gotten the money in a sack that had been in a small lockbox, tucked inside the safe. That combo had also been easy – the date they’d discovered that their sister had run away.
The day Grant had lost Wes, too. First to the bottle, then to the obsession of finding their sister, and now to . . . whatever all of this was. Because the sack held a brick of something white. Heroin, he guessed.
My God, Wes. How could you? Drugs? Wes was a vice detective, for God’s sake. ‘What have you done?’ Grant murmured again.
He needed to find out. And fast.
He pulled out a chair and sat in it heavily. Then began skimming each page in the stack. They looked like receipts, printed from a computer. Rent, utilities . . . All in the name of Blake Emerson. And all for an address in Cincinnati.
Which did not make any sense. At all. They’d both been to Cincinnati, multiple times. It was where their sister had run away from. But they’d stayed in hotels.
Who the hell was Blake Emerson? But then he saw the signature on one of the pages. It was Wes’s handwriting. What the hell?
He Googled the address on the receipts and gaped at the result. It was a luxury apartment in Cincinnati’s downtown. Stunned, he continued scanning the receipts – food from very expensive restaurants, a new car.
A Bentley, for God’s sake. A two-hundred-thousand-dollar Bentley.
Grant put the paper down on the table, his head spinning. Breathe. Just breathe. Was his brother experiencing some kind of mental breakdown? How long had he been stealing drugs and selling them? Had he always lived a double life?
‘Who are you?’ he whispered, hearing his own desperation. Quickly, he went through the rest of the documents. More receipts, but they seemed to only go back six months. So perhaps this double life was new.
Under the earliest rent receipt, he found a small envelope containing a key. A label hung from the thin key ring, bearing the same address as the luxury apartment.
Grant put it aside and kept going. His hands stilled when he neared the bottom of the stack. ‘Oh fuck.’
It was an obituary, printed in the Cincinnati Ledger. Detective Bert Stuart of the Cincinnati PD had been killed in his own home by an intruder who was never identified.
Grant swallowed hard. Detective Bert Stuart had been the cop who’d refused to investigate their sister’s disappearance, insisting that she’d run away voluntarily.
He set the obituary aside and his blood ran cold when he saw what was under it. It was a copy of the police report they’d filed on their sister’s disappearance. In the margin, in Wes’s handwriting, was scrawled: Never filed.
Grant shook his head. That made no sense. Of course it was filed. The detective had come to them in their sister’s dorm room and—
Grant covered his mouth with his gloved hand. The detective who was now dead. Murdered. ‘My God, Wes, what have you done?’
This was not the brother he knew. The brother he loved. Wes was a good man. A good cop. Except . . .
Grant forced himself to look at the brick of heroin. Except Wes wasn’t a good cop. He couldn’t be. Could he?
Dreading what else he’d find, Grant flipped to the last page in the stack. It was another police report, also written by Detective Stuart, but this one had a red stamp that said: FILED. The number on the report was exactly the same as on the report filed on their sister’s disappearance, but it was for a petty theft incident that occurred a few days after their sister disappeared.
Wes was right. Her missing person report had apparently not been filed at all.
There was a sticky note in one corner, with the letters LOTR.
LOTR? Like . . . Lord of the Rings? That didn’t make sense either. Grant loved the books and the films, but Wes absolutely hated them.
Only one thing in this whole mess was clear. He grabbed his cell phone. ‘Hey, Siri. Call Cora at home.’ When his home phone began to ring, he hit the speaker icon with one gloved knuckle. ‘Hey, honey.’
‘Grant!’ Cora exclaimed. ‘MaryBeth’s niece just got here. Is this for real? Can I keep her?’
Grant frowned, trying to figure out what she was talking about, then remembered his assistant’s au pair niece and almost smiled. Cora sounded like a kid asking for a puppy. ‘You certainly can. She comes highly recommended.’
‘I know! I’m so . . .’ Her voice broke a little. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
‘You’re welcome.’ He cleared his throat, dreading this. ‘Look, honey, I’m at Wes’s apartment and he’s not here. But I think he might need me.’
Cora’s end of the phone went silent. ‘Where is he?’
‘Cincinnati.’ It was all he could tell her. All he could force himself to say. Telling her about the drugs, the cash, the ritzy apartment would only worry her fruitlessly.
‘He’s gone to look for her again,’ she murmured.
Because Wes hadn’t given up looking for their sister, convinced that she hadn’t run away. Grant just didn’t know what to think. ‘Maybe. I need to find him.’
She blew out a breath. ‘What’s he done now, Grant?’
Grant stared at the table. At the money. The heroin. The receipts. ‘I don’t know. But he needs help. Can you get along without me for a few days?’
‘I guess I’ll have to,’ she answered, a little bitterly. ‘You’ll take off at tax time to help your brother, but not to come home and see your own wife and kids.’
Grant chafed at that. ‘That’s not fair, Cora.’
‘No, it’s not.’ She drew a deep breath and let it out. ‘Go find your brother. Then—’ She broke off in a huff.
‘Then?’ Grant prompted warily.
‘Then tell him that you’re done. Your children need you at home. I want you here. With me.’
Grant rubbed his head, his loyalties torn. ‘All right,’ he murmured. ‘I will.’
She sighed weari
ly. ‘Do you need me to pack you a bag?’
‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
‘All right. Come home. I’ll have it waiting along with some food for you to take on the drive.’
He felt a little piece of his heart settle. If Cora was making him travel food, it meant she wasn’t too angry with him. He could only pray that he found Wes quickly.
Villa Hills, Kentucky
Saturday, 16 March, 3.00 P.M.
‘Hi, Mr Kaiser.’ The receptionist at his father’s nursing home shot Cade a flirtatious smile. ‘I was hoping I’d see you today. You’re later than usual.’
Because I was stuck babysitting my boss, who took way too long to die.
‘I got hung up at home,’ he lied smoothly. ‘How are you, Millicent?’
‘You know how it is.’ She actually batted her lashes. The woman was always throwing herself at him. It made him wonder if she was so aggressive with everyone. ‘Same old, same old.’ She resettled herself, propping her generous cleavage atop the arms she’d folded on her desk. ‘Hey, I’ve got a pair of Cyclones tickets for tonight. Interested?’
It was abundantly clear that it wasn’t minor league hockey she was interested in. Cade had to admit he was tempted. He liked hockey and he loved cleavage. And after listening to Richard bump and grind for four fucking hours, he’d earned a little fun of his own. ‘Maybe.’ He returned her flirtatious smile with one of his own. ‘Do you come with them?’
More eyelash batting. ‘I do.’
‘Give me your number. I’ll call you if I can move some things around.’
Rising fluidly, she leaned forward, giving him an even better view of her very impressive rack, and wrote her number on the back of one of the nursing home’s business cards. ‘My cell.’
Cade slipped the card into his shirt pocket. ‘I’ll call you,’ he promised with a wink, then set off for his father’s room.
The nursing home was a lot nicer than the place Cade would have picked out for the man who’d given him nothing but bad memories. Unfortunately Konrad Kaiser had known how much his son hated him and had prepared for this eventuality by securing his spot at the home himself. He’d placed all of his money into a trust, going so far as to specify his nursing home, hospice and funeral arrangements, too. After his death, any remaining funds, including the sale of the Kaiser family home, were to go to his church.
And, having been an attorney, he had made sure the trust was unbreakable. Cade could not touch one penny. He’d tried. Several times.
Which was why he’d opted to leave his father here in this nursing home, in his semi-vegetative state, where strangers changed his diapers, rather than finishing the job. I’d be a suspect for sure.
A nurse was exiting his father’s room as Cade approached. She was new, young and hot. Far hotter than the receptionist. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked cautiously.
‘I’m Cade Kaiser. Konrad’s son.’ This was the only place that knew his real name. He hated that, but it was unavoidable.
The nurse smiled at him. ‘I’m Nurse Jillian. I’ll be working with your father. The other nurses mentioned that you visit on Saturdays. It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Likewise. I know I’m a little late today,’ Cade said, feigning apology. ‘How’s he doing?’
‘The same. But I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Have a good visit.’
Bullshit. His dad hated it when he visited. That was why Cade never missed a Saturday.
‘Hey, Dad,’ he said cheerfully as he entered the room. He grabbed a chair and pushed it close to his father’s bed. ‘It’s Saturday again. Which means that it’s time for your favorite son to visit.’ He chuckled to himself because he was his father’s only child. ‘I see you got a new nurse on the floor. She’s a hottie, or didn’t you notice?’
His father’s gaze held his for a long moment before flicking away to focus on the television mounted over his bed. It was Konrad’s way of getting the last word without uttering a sound.
‘I don’t think so,’ Cade said, and got up to find the remote so that he could turn off the TV. Instead he stopped in his tracks when he saw what was onscreen.
‘Oh . . . fuck,’ he whispered. Divers in dry suits were standing on the Ohio side of the river. It appeared the camera was positioned on the Kentucky side, but it had a hell of a telescopic lens. Flanking the divers were two men in suits.
One had dark hair, the other bright white.
Cade recognized the guy with white hair. He’d gotten a lot of press coverage in the last few years, all of it good. FBI Special Agent Deacon Novak was a media darling. And a damn good cop.
The chyron at the bottom of the screen read: Divers Search Ohio River for Body Parts.
He swallowed hard. Fucking hell.
Relax. No way they can trace those parts to you. You were careful.
Yes, he had been, but he’d also thought he’d been careful enough that the parts would never be found in the first place. Fucking hell.
He gave himself a little shake and turned up the TV volume. And listened.
The first body part found had been a head, dragged up by a fisherman early that morning. The guy must have come along shortly after Cade dumped Brian Carlyle and Paul Engel, the most recent perverts.
What had the fisherman seen? Did he see me?
Cade needed the man’s name. He needed to make sure that the fisherman didn’t remember anything that might lead the police to him.
They’d been diving all morning, according to the newscaster, pulling up the remains of at least three individuals. On the case were Agent Novak and Detective Kimble, members of the Major Case Enforcement Squad, an FBI/CPD joint task force.
Cade would have to make sure they didn’t cause him any trouble. He’d never had to kill a cop, but if it came down to them or him?
I’ll choose me every damn time.
But first things first. He switched off the TV. He needed to find that fisherman.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Saturday, 16 March, 3.15 P.M.
‘Did you two get enough to eat?’ Dani asked the Rowland brothers.
They’d gone to the diner around the corner from the clinic where Dani and her staff ate all their meals. Some people were still nervous about walking around in the Over-the-Rhine neighborhood, but Dani had never had a problem, even after midnight.
If she’d had any qualms before, she felt as safe as a vault walking around with Diesel Kennedy. The big man had held Joshua’s small hand in his enormous one as they’d walked. It made her heart hurt.
But it still changed nothing. Their lunch had been cozy and Dani would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she’d pretended it was real, that she and Diesel and the boys were a family. But it was a fantasy, and a dangerous one at that.
She couldn’t get too comfortable with the man. She would not lead him on. She’d been accused of being thoughtless and cruel by the last man in her life. She wouldn’t be cruel to Diesel Kennedy.
Joshua sat back in the booth across from her, patting his stomach as he leaned into Diesel’s huge arm. ‘I’m gonna bust,’ he said, his signing considerably slower than it had been before he’d eaten. His eyes were drooping sleepily. ‘I ate all my burger and my vegetables.’
Michael shook his head. ‘Fries are not vegetables.’
‘Potatoes,’ Joshua insisted. ‘Right, Coach?’
Diesel’s lips twitched. ‘Well, technically potatoes are vegetables, but they generally don’t count as nutritious. Especially when they’re fried. But it’s okay to treat ourselves every now and then. You’ll need to eat some legit veggies later.’
It was a good answer, Dani had to admit. ‘Can you fit ice cream?’
Michael shook his head. ‘No. I’m stuffed. Joshua needs to wait, too.’
Joshua frowned. ‘Do not.’
Michael ga
ve him a look. ‘Remember what happened the last time you ate too much?’
Joshua grimaced. ‘Okay, you’re right.’ He looked up at Diesel. ‘Can we have some ice cream later?’
‘We can,’ Diesel promised.
‘Should we bring food for Mrs Moody?’ Joshua asked, clearly stalling.
‘No,’ Diesel told him. ‘She had to go home, remember? She can get her own lunch. But that was thoughtful of you to ask.’
Dani was about to agree when her phone buzzed. She checked her messages. ‘Maddie Shafer and Officer Cullen are back,’ she told the boys. ‘They want us to meet them.’ She lifted her eyes to Diesel. ‘I texted them before we left that we’d be taking the kids out for food.’
Joshua seemed to deflate before their eyes. ‘Did the police lady arrest Mom?’
‘I don’t know,’ Dani answered honestly. ‘I guess we’ll find out when we talk to them.’
Joshua drew a deep breath and glanced at his brother. ‘I don’t want to go back. But Michael can’t go back.’ His lip trembled. ‘She hurts him.’
‘If you go back, I go back,’ Michael signed fiercely. ‘You’re not going to be alone.’
The four of them sat in silence for several seconds. Then Diesel slid out of the booth and held out his hand to Joshua. ‘The bill’s paid. Are you ready?’
Joshua gripped his hand like his life depended on it. ‘No,’ he whispered.
Michael had put on a stoically brave face during the meal, but any pretense was gone. He appeared more miserable and terrified than any kid should ever be.
‘We need to go,’ Dani signed softly. ‘Let’s see what we’re dealing with before we get upset, okay?’
He nodded once and slid out of the booth, waiting until Dani had done the same before replying. ‘Okay. And even if it goes wrong, thank you for trying.’
Dani’s throat closed. She was glad she could sign, because there was no way she’d be able to speak at that moment. ‘You’re welcome. You can call me anytime. I mean that. Now, let’s go.’