by Karen Rose
He gave her one of those soft smiles that he normally reserved for Delores. ‘I’ll ask Marcus to stand guard outside the boys’ bedroom door. Nobody will touch them. I promise.’
She looked up into his face, seeing nothing but sincerity. ‘I know I’m overprotective, but . . . well, thank you.’
He patted her shoulder. ‘Get your coat. I’ll tell Delores where we’re going.’
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, 17 March, 11.30 P.M.
‘I don’t like any of this, Grant,’ Cora said after he’d described the scene at the riverboat casino that evening.
Grant sank into the buttery leather of Wesley’s living-room sofa, so soft that he thought he’d fall asleep right away. ‘Me either,’ he said with a jaw-cracking yawn.
‘If he’s gotten involved with something this bad, maybe you should get a hotel. What if those guys come looking for him?’
Grant tried to shake the sense of dread brought on by her words. What if they already have come looking? What if they’ve found him? ‘I’ll be fine. I’m so tired, hon, I don’t think I can move to find a hotel. If I don’t get any answers by tomorrow, I’ll consider it. How’s that?’
She blew out an aggravated sigh. ‘Probably the best I’m going to get, so I guess I have to take it. How much longer do you think you’ll be gone?’
‘I don’t know. How’s MaryBeth’s niece working out? Is she the au pair extraordinaire that MaryBeth claimed?’
‘Better. I got to sleep last night for the first time in weeks.’
Grant smiled. ‘You sound better. Maybe we can keep her for a while.’
‘Can we afford a live-in au pair?’
Not really was the actual answer, but Cora sounded so happy that he wasn’t going to say that out loud. For a tiny moment, Grant thought about the stacks of cash in his brother’s safe. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.
But that was dirty money and would lead to absolutely no good. Wesley’s current predicament was testament to that. ‘Yes,’ he said.
Cora chuckled. ‘No, we can’t, but I love you for trying. I’ll enjoy this little reprieve and then maybe we can find a part-time helper.’ She made a kissing sound. ‘Come home to me, Grant. I don’t need a full-time nanny. I just need you.’
Grant’s chest tightened. This was what he’d wanted for his brother and sister – a simple life with someone who loved them. ‘I love you. Kiss the kids for me.’
He ended the call and shoved himself off the couch. As soft as it was, it was no substitute for a bed. He’d fallen asleep on it last night and woken with a stiff back. He went to Wesley’s guest room and pulled back the cover on the bed.
And frowned.
There were no sheets on the bed. He checked the other guest room and found the same thing. The beds had been made up to look guest-ready, but they weren’t. He began picking up items in the second guest room – lamps, knick-knacks. Every one of them still bore the price tag. He picked up a framed photo and realized the photo had come with the frame.
This room was a model. It wasn’t real. The first guest room was the same.
This whole apartment was a fake. But intended to fool whom?
Grant found sheets on Wesley’s bed in the master bedroom and kicked off his shoes. He stripped off his clothes and went to bed in his boxers, half expecting masked men with guns to come in and shoot him, thinking he was his brother.
Cora had made him paranoid. But what if she was right?
With a sigh, Grant got up and opened the floor safe. He retrieved Wesley’s service weapon and set it on the nightstand. In the nightstand drawer was a full clip. He inserted it into the magazine and racked the gun to fill the chamber.
If Cora’s ‘bad guys’ came, he’d at least have a fighting chance.
He turned off the light and stared up at the ceiling, hearing every bump and creak in the night. Tomorrow I’m getting a hotel.
Cincinnati, Ohio
Sunday, 17 March, 11.50 P.M.
Dani checked on the boys when she went upstairs to get her coat. Joshua was curled up in the bed, his arms tightly clutching the stuffed dog she’d given him. And Michael was on the floor, just as Greg had said.
At least he had a blanket tonight. She made a mental note to give him the inflatable mattress tomorrow night. If he was going to keep sleeping on Joshua’s floor, he should be comfortable.
She found Stone in the kitchen, eating a plate of lasagna while Delores quietly beamed at his side. All conversation stopped as soon as Dani entered.
‘I’m ready to go,’ she said, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on her and she was fighting not to drop her gaze to the floor.
Great. Just great. They all knew she was going to Diesel. There was not a single shred of privacy in their circle. But then Jeremy gave her a small nod of approval and her heart settled. Faith’s uncle – and Marcus’s dad – had become a surrogate father to them all, especially sweet as most of their circle of friends didn’t have the best parental relationships.
They’d made this family together, and it was every bit as strong as a family connected by blood.
The silence in the room was about to become awkward when the doorbell rang. Dani started to quiet the dogs when she realized they weren’t barking. Because Delores had sent Marcus, Decker, and Greg out to walk them.
Troy went to open the door. Dani didn’t miss the way his hand rested on the weapon on his belt, and a cold shiver ran down her back as she was once again reminded of the dangerous predator who wanted the young man asleep on the floor upstairs.
Over my dead body. She looked at the faces around her kitchen, taking comfort in the confidence that any one of these people would protect those boys with their lives. It was only that knowledge that was allowing her to leave them.
The front door closed and Troy reappeared, his expression an odd mixture of annoyance, fierce determination, and . . . something else Dani couldn’t identify. But her attention was captured by the man pushing the jacket hood off his head as he followed Troy.
‘Agent Taylor?’ she asked, eyes widening at the disheveled state of the man who ran the crime scene lab for the local FBI field office. She only knew him slightly, but he was a friend to both Deacon and Adam, so he was okay in her book.
‘Quincy?’ Kate asked, her surprise clear. ‘What are you doing here? And what the hell happened? Are you okay?’
Because the man was clearly upset. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked like he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it.
‘Yeah,’ he said to Kate, then turned to Dani. ‘I’m so sorry to intrude at this hour, but I saw the lights on and all the cars out front and knew you were awake. I was hoping to talk to Diesel. Is he here?’
‘Not right now,’ Dani answered warily. ‘Can I help you?’
He sighed. ‘I’d kind of hoped to pass this on privately, but that’s not really possible with your group, is it?’
‘Not really,’ Dani said sympathetically. ‘What’s wrong, Agent Taylor?’
‘Quincy,’ he corrected. ‘Look, I’m not here. Got it?’
Troy rolled his eyes. ‘Just get on with it, Quince,’ he snapped, drawing curious stares from all over the room. Troy flicked his hand at them all. ‘I’m tired and it’s late. What is so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’
Something briefly flickered in Quincy Taylor’s eyes and then it was gone. Amusement? Dani wondered. But Quincy was regarding her seriously again. ‘You read about George Garrett, the fisherman that was murdered, I assume.’
‘No,’ Dani said, ‘but Adam told us about it.’
‘Well, we wondered how the killer had gotten Garrett’s name,’ Quincy said. ‘We kept it out of the press. But when I saw the sketch CPD made based on Michael Rowland’s description, I realized that I’d seen him.’ He glanced over at Troy. ‘He came t
o the crime scene yesterday. Was talking to one of my techs.’
Troy stiffened. ‘Shit.’
Dani sucked in a breath at the same time. ‘What? One of your techs told a stranger this man’s name?’
‘Probably not at the crime scene,’ Quincy said. ‘We’re thinking that Scott King went to my tech’s house last night. Akers was found at the bottom of his basement stairs with a broken neck.’
Dani sank into a chair. ‘It wasn’t an accident, was it?’
Quincy shook his head. ‘No. We were supposed to think it was. I’ve just come from Akers’s house. Dani, this killer went to considerable trouble to get George Garrett’s name.’
Dani made herself breathe. ‘Then he killed Akers and Garrett.’
‘Yes. We believe Garrett was killed because Scott King believed he’d seen him. King risked coming to the crime scene. He risked being seen by cops. By Feds. By me. I saw him there. I walked up to him and he didn’t run. My coveralls have FBI in giant letters across the back. King was that desperate to eliminate anyone who’d seen him.’
Dani’s blood ran cold. ‘Michael saw him.’
Quincy’s nod was grim. ‘I know. I also know that no fewer than three reporters had received calls by the time I left the Garrett crime scene this afternoon. All said that a man claiming to be one of Michael’s teachers had called asking if they knew where his foster home was located. All of them told him that they’d heard he was in a safe house and the location was restricted information.’
‘Because Deacon and Adam spread that rumor after Garrett was murdered,’ Dani murmured. She swallowed back the fear that was clawing up her throat. ‘He’s looking for Michael. He knows that Michael saw him. How?’
Troy exhaled quietly. ‘Probably because of all the articles about Michael online today. His mother talked to any news service who’d listen. The Ledger didn’t run her story, but all the other news sites did. The interview she gave where she accused Michael of killing Brewer and assaulting her went viral. If King didn’t know that Michael was hiding in Joshua’s bedroom before, he’s figured it out by now.’
Dani had to close her eyes against the wave of pure rage that washed over her. ‘I wish Scott King had killed their mother, too,’ she hissed, and wasn’t one bit sorry that she’d said it aloud, even in front of cops and Feds. She opened her eyes to see them all nodding. ‘Do Deacon and Adam know about Akers?’
‘They do now. I told them,’ Quincy said, ‘but they’re at another scene.’
‘The riverboat,’ Dani said. ‘Stone told me that he and Diesel had learned Scott King’s name. Did they find King there?’
‘No,’ Quincy said. ‘I’m on my way over there now, but I wanted you to know that you need to be even more careful than you have been.’
‘Thank you.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry about Akers.’
‘Me, too. I’d suspended him because I thought he’d talked to a reporter.’ He sighed. ‘I hope that didn’t make him vulnerable to King.’
‘I think King had targeted Akers before you suspended him, Quincy,’ Troy said with compassion, then turned to Kate. ‘I texted Deacon when I saw the report of the riverboat raid. Asked if they needed help questioning the riverboat patrons. He just texted back and said they did. They’re trying to get the staff processed.’
Deacon and Adam were on an FBI/CPD joint task force and the two organizations sometimes lent each other personnel as needed. It wasn’t common for Dani’s CPD friends to be working with her FBI friends and vice versa, but it did happen when the case was high profile enough or when multiple crime scenes were involved, which was certainly true for this case.
Kate glanced at Dani. ‘I’m off duty tonight. I’m going to stay here.’
‘I figured you would. I told him I’d help.’ Troy shook his head. ‘I can’t believe you all hadn’t heard about it. It was all over the news.’
‘We were watching The Avengers,’ Kate said, lifting her chin.
Troy chuckled. ‘That explains everything. I’ll take this one, but I don’t have a car. I came with Jeremy and Keith.’
‘I can give you a ride there,’ Quincy said. He pulled the hood of his jacket back over his head. ‘But I’ll be there for a while. You’ll need to find your own ride home.’
‘Thanks,’ Troy told him, then leaned in to kiss Dani’s cheek. ‘Be careful. Don’t go doing anything stupid like going after this King guy or the boys’ mother, okay? I don’t care how justifiably furious you are.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Troy. And thanks for the cookies. The boys will love them. So will Diesel. Thank you for stopping by, Quincy. I’ll make sure Diesel knows about Akers, too.’
Quincy nodded and Troy gave her shoulder a final squeeze before following Quincy out the door.
Dani sat for a moment, letting the new facts percolate through her mind. ‘This really changes nothing,’ she said after a moment. ‘We knew the killer was, y’know, a killer. We knew he might come after Michael. We’ve been keeping the boys safe. We’ll continue to do so. The only thing that’s new is that now we know that all the protection really is necessary. Right?’
‘Right,’ Stone said. ‘So do you still want to go to Diesel?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Dani said darkly. ‘It’s even more important now that he not go after King on his own.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go.’
Stone put his hand on her back as he walked her to his Escalade, watching the street as cautiously as Deacon or Adam would.
‘Thank you, Detective Stone,’ she said sweetly, knowing it would get his goat. At the moment, she needed a little levity.
Sure enough, he gave her a dark look that was as fake as a three-dollar bill. ‘You want to go back inside, Dr Novak?’
She sighed. ‘No, I’ll be good, I promise. Just take me to him, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he conceded grumpily. He opened the car door and helped her in. ‘Buckle up. Click it or ticket and all that shit.’ He slammed the door hard, then climbed in his side and slammed his own door. ‘You’re mean.’ But his eyes twinkled and Dani had needed to see that.
‘I’m so mean,’ she agreed, then sighed again, because she was only partly joking now. ‘We should hurry. No telling what the man’s gotten himself into in the time he’s been alone.’
Sixteen
Cincinnati, Ohio
Monday, 18 March, 12.20 A.M.
Cade breathed a sigh of relief as the black Escalade pulled away from Dani Novak’s house. The place was fucking Grand Central Station. He’d parked far enough away that he wouldn’t be seen by the people constantly coming and going from the house, but could still hear outdoor conversations with his long-range mike. He settled in, then waited and waited for her to come out.
The Escalade had left earlier, driven by the burly guy who’d been talking on the front stoop when Cade had first arrived. He’d run a search on the plates, but came up with nothing useful. The vehicle was registered to a non-profit called Patrick’s Place, which was a dog shelter.
A Hummer had arrived a few hours after the Escalade left, carrying three men. That vehicle was registered to a cooking school run by a Keith O’Bannion. It made sense, because it looked like two of the three men had brought food.
Which was likely needed, because the house was filled with people.
The Escalade had returned shortly after the Hummer’s arrival. The bulky man went into the house, and a few minutes later a teenager had come through the door. Cade had been momentarily elated, but it hadn’t been Brewer’s stepson.
The kid had been followed by two men – different from the three who’d arrived in the Hummer. One of the men was the other guy who’d been talking on the front stoop when he’d arrived. The kid was walking seven fucking dogs. Seven. The two men each took a couple of the leashes and that seemed to calm things down.
Cade had no idea who any of the
m were, but at least the dogs were no longer in the house. However, there were still way too many people in there for him to make a move. So he’d waited some more.
The final visitor drove a Toyota Tundra and had slowed once, passing the house entirely before turning around to park across the driveway. The driver was a man, but that was all Cade could see, because he wore a jacket with a hood. He’d emerged a short time later with one of the guys from the Hummer. They’d been quiet, not saying a word as they’d walked stiffly to the truck.
This was the quietest group of people Cade had ever trailed. Nobody said anything as they walked to and from the house.
Until Dani Novak had finally emerged. With the bulky Escalade driver, who was a cop. Detective Stone, she’d called him. Then she’d promised to ‘be good’ so that the detective would take her ‘to him’.
To him. The cop was taking the doctor to the safe house. Cade was so glad he’d been patient. Taking off his headphones, he started his SUV and slowly followed them, keeping them in view. He’d have the kid in his sights soon enough.
Bridgetown, Ohio
Monday, 18 March, 12.55 A.M.
Diesel stared at the monitor on his right, willing Ritz to hurry. He’d run the password-cracking program dozens of times since developing it years ago. Ritz had never met a password it couldn’t crack. Normally he used it to gain access to the accounts of the targets of the Ledger’s ‘special’ investigations, those individuals who’d abused their families but who’d slipped through the justice system. Tonight he was sifting through the passwords in the casino’s administrative database.
His network entrée had been through Jodie Spaeth, the general manager who’d mistaken him for Scott King. Unfortunately, her personal email had been the target of a data breach two years ago when a department store’s network had been hacked. Fortunately for Diesel, those user names and passwords were publicly available. Miss Spaeth had made his work very easy indeed by using the same password on her work email.
Which, according to her social media, was the name of the dog she’d lost to cancer the summer before. Her user name and password had provided him access to nearly everything on the riverboat’s network. Including the database of all employees along with their encrypted passwords – a nonsensical hash of letters and numbers at the moment. Diesel could see Scott King’s name, but the hashed password that followed wouldn’t be useful until it was decrypted, and that was Ritz’s job.