by J. Kenner
He almost smiles. “No. I guess you’re not. Shit.” He runs his hands over his shaved head. “If he knows, why the hell hasn’t he told Chief Randall? Because then he’d have to reveal how he knows,” he continues, answering his own question. “And that would mean revealing who he is now. Fuck.”
I swallow, then force myself not to lean back when he turns his narrowed gaze on me. “But he’s told you,” Lamar says, his words coming slowly as if he’s a freshman trying to talk his way through a calculus problem. “He must have because that’s not what you’re investigating. You’re looking into the why behind what Peter did. Not the question of who shot him. You. His niece. And you’re not even looking anymore.”
“That’s not the point of the article,” I say.
“No,” he agrees. “You’re doing your family piece. A story of how it all went wrong.”
I glance toward Brandy; I can’t help myself.
Lamar doesn’t notice, though. He’s still working through his thoughts, and I can’t think of a way to distract him.
“For as long as I’ve known you,” Lamar says, “you’re like a dog with a bone. Your editor may want the touchy-feely story, but you want answers. And when you first came to town, you wanted to know who the real killer was. But now you’re not looking anymore.”
“What would be the point?” I ask. “You know as well as I do that the odds of getting a conviction when someone else has already confessed or been tried. It’s rare to never.”
“Maybe. But you’d still want to know, and yet you’re not looking. That means Devlin told you. So then the question is why aren’t you pursuing it? Is the killer dead? If so, why haven’t you told Chief Randall. Or me, for that matter?” He starts to pace, the tension in his body coming off him like waves. “Instead, you’re holding it close because Devlin told you to. Or else he—”
His eyes go wide, and his body straightens. “Oh, fuck me. Ellie, what the hell? You’re telling me that Devlin Saint killed your uncle?”
A cold chill runs over me. “I never said that.”
He closes his eyes, draws a breath, then opens them again. “He told you to tell me everything. So why did you leave that part out? I mean, Brandy already knows, right?”
This time, I don’t even try to hide the fact that I’m looking toward Brandy. She nods, but I’ve already made up my mind. “Yeah,” I say. “She knows.”
“You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want to burden me. Even though Saint told you to. He said to tell me the rest of it.”
I lift a shoulder in silent acknowledgement, and he nods, obviously still processing everything.
“So tell me the rest. Like how the hell you can possibly be okay with this. I mean, your boyfriend murdered your uncle.”
I shake my head. “I never said a word about Devlin killing Peter. But you and I know that if he did, there would only be one reason for it, and that’s if he was protecting me.”
Lamar nods slowly. “His father gave him an ultimatum. Take out Peter or watch his girlfriend get blown away.”
“Defense of others,” I say softly, wishing that Lamar understood. That he wasn’t standing there reciting facts. I want him beside me, holding my hand and telling me that he understands everything I went through. Everything Devlin went through.
“Defense of others? Don’t even, Ellie. You know that wouldn’t fly. He could have gone to the authorities. He could have hidden you away, gotten help. Instead, he took matters into his own hands. He did what his father wanted, and your uncle’s dead because of it. Peter could still be alive. He could have served his time by now and be back with you. Your family. A man who loved and took care of you.”
His eyes turn cold. So does my blood. “Instead, you have the man who killed him.”
“Lamar, please. You have to understand—”
I glance at Brandy, who looks terrified.
Lamar runs his hand over his head. “Look. I get what you’re saying. I do. But you’ve got to remember who I am. I’m not just your friend. I’m a cop. You have to know that I love you and that I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”
He’s waiting for me to respond, so I nod, hoping that I really do know that.
“Good. But Ellie, here’s the thing. This ... I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know how I can keep a lid on it. Or maybe I did ask for it. Maybe I asked for it by poking around. I don’t know. But did you think about this? Maybe he’s just playing me. Playing you, too.”
“No way,” Brandy says, speaking for the first time, and I think I want to kiss her, I’m so happy she’s still on my side. “He’s not doing that. What are you even talking about?”
Lamar looks from Brandy to me. “Maybe he’s trying to make himself look like one of the good guys when he’s really three steps ahead of me. There’s no question the man’s smart. Maybe he knew I would figure it out eventually. That you would either accidentally tell me, or I’d find out he killed Peter. That’s the job, right. And eventually I would have found my answers.”
He pauses, then continues before I have a chance to say anything. “Doing it this way—telling you to tell me everything so that I feel obligated to keep your secret, not his—is Saint’s way of staying three steps ahead of me. Of making sure he’s protected. And by a cop, no less.”
“No. No way. Lamar, you can’t believe that.”
“I’m sorry, Sherlock. I love you. But I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t.” He blows out a noisy breath. “I need some time.”
“But—”
He takes my hand, silencing me. “I’ll make you one promise, though. I won’t do anything without telling you first. Okay?”
I nod, mute, my vision blurring from the tears that are filling my eyes.
“You guys go ahead and eat. I need to think. I’m sorry,” he adds. “I know you wanted me to say something else. I know you wanted me to be someone else. But I can’t right now. I can’t process any of this. I have to figure this out for myself. And to do that, I really need to go.”
Chapter Twelve
Devlin was awake when the security system buzzed, signaling that someone had stepped onto the property. He checked the feed on his phone, unsurprised when he saw that the midnight visitor was Lamar.
After all, Devlin had been expecting him.
He moved to the entryway and opened the door as Lamar was lifting his hand to ring the bell.
“Detective.”
Lamar met his eyes, said nothing, then stepped past Devlin and into the house.
Devlin casually closed the door, biting back the urge to say something. It wasn’t worth the pissing contest. Not when the underlying issue was Ellie. Her relationship with Devlin. Her friendship with Lamar.
“Tell me why,” Lamar demanded, without preamble.
Devlin didn’t pretend to misunderstand the question. “Because I took enough from her when I walked away.”
“After you shot Peter.”
Devlin smiled, but neither confirmed nor denied. “I can’t take away her friends now, too,” he said instead. He’d meant every word when he told Ellie to tell Lamar the rest, but that didn’t mean he was going to confess to a murder in his own home. “And that’s what would have happened. She would never have told you my secrets. Not without my okay. And that would have put up a wall between you. You might not have realized it, but she’d know. And eventually, that invisible barrier would wear down the foundation of your friendship.”
“So it’s all about her.”
He met Lamar’s eyes. “It’s always been about her.”
Lamar made a harsh noise in the back of his throat. “I could believe that. Or I could believe you’re a manipulative son of a bitch who’s stacking the cards in his favor to make sure he has an ally in the police department while he’s facing a murder charge.”
“It’s a theory,” Devlin agreed. “Hell, it’s not even a bad one. But do you really believe that’s how I’d stack the deck? You know how much I’m worth. Do you reall
y think there’s no one in the LCPD—hell, in the mayor’s office or even the governor’s office—I couldn’t have in my pocket if I wanted them there?”
Lamar’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure you’re actually making your case, Saint.”
“I’m not trying to convince you, Detective. I’m only making sure you have all the angles to think about.” They were still in the entryway, but now he headed for the living room. The doors were open to let in the cool breeze as a small fire burned in the corner fireplace. “I’m going to have a drink. Want one?”
“What the hell. Bourbon. Whatever you’ve got. Straight up.”
Devlin poured him a glass, then filled his own before settling into a leather armchair and nodding for Lamar to take the sofa.
“So what’s your angle?” the detective asked as he took a seat. “You said you were giving me all the angles to think about. Which one is yours?”
“I already told you. Ellie’s my only interest.”
“I don’t buy that. She’s going to hurt like hell if I arrest you for murder.”
“I can’t argue with that. I can only say that in my judgment, Ellie would be the most hurt by lying through default to her friends. It would hurt her soul. It would hurt her friendship with you. And ultimately, it would hurt us. Because it would be like an open wound in our relationship. Ellie knows the score.”
“Well, you judged her wrong. Because she didn’t tell me. Not about the murder, anyway.”
Devlin tightened his grip on his glass, careful not to react as he admitted—only to himself—that he hadn’t expected that. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain that statement, Detective. I’m not quite following.”
“She told me you were The Wolf’s son,” Lamar continued. “I asked if you knew who killed Peter. Since she’s not looking for his killer anymore, it was easy to figure out the rest.”
“Are you saying that she confirmed your assumption that I pulled the trigger?”
“Not overtly, no. She’s protecting you, even though you told her to tell me all of it.”
Devlin leaned back, realizing that he wasn’t really surprised, after all. “And you think she underestimated you.”
“But you won’t.”
“I make it a habit to understand my adversaries,” Devlin said. “And my friends.”
“Which am I?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
“When I arrest you, you mean? I’ll need to investigate. I know, but I don’t have proof. Not the kind that will hold up in court, anyway.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” Devlin said. “And I’m sure there are other investigations more worth your time. Peter’s death may be an open case again, but it’s old and not at the top of anyone’s list—except possibly yours, Detective.”
“And now you expect me to sit on it?”
Devlin almost smiled. “I don’t know you well enough to have expectations. If you want to arrest me, I won’t make a scene, but I’m sure my lawyers will have a field day. And if you want to sit down, have a drink, and talk this out, I’m good with that, too.”
For a moment, Lamar said nothing. Just swirled his glass so the remaining liquid went round and round. Silence hung between them until he finally shifted his attention from the glass to Devlin’s face.
“Do you expect me to believe that you weren’t involved in the dirty side of Peter’s business?”
“I don’t expect you to take anything on faith, Detective.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Devlin sipped his whiskey, then smiled. “Actually, it was. But to get to the deeper query, no, I wasn’t involved in that part of his business.”
“Considering who your father was, how the hell was that possible?”
Devlin dragged his fingers through his hair, tugging out the tie that held it back from his face in the process. He bit back a sigh of frustration. He knew Lamar needed to be led by the hand. And he knew Ellie was worth taking the time to handle Lamar. But he didn’t like being interrogated, and if he didn’t watch it, he’d lose his patience. If that happened, Lamar really would start poking around in Peter’s murder. And that was a headache Devlin didn’t need.
“Peter was my boss and my mentor,” he began. “He was embezzling money and selling drugs, and that shit didn’t sit with me. But he treated me like a son, and he loved Ellie. You never knew him, of course, but he would have done anything for her. That car—Shelby? He probably lost a hundred grand just because he spent his time dealing with that car instead of running his operation.”
“He could have asked you to step in and handle things.”
“No. I told you I didn’t touch that, and I meant it. My father sent me to learn, but I made it clear to Peter that I’d walk away if he made me get involved with anything more than the legitimate side of the business. I saw what he was doing, sure. But I didn’t help.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe. It was another lifetime ago. Why would I lie about that?”
Lamar ignored the question. “What did you do after you shot him?”
“You mean after Peter was shot and I left town? I joined the Army.”
“Did you go back to Nevada? To your dad?”
“Not then. I went later. Told him I’d joined the military. Was in Sniper School. Gave him a bullshit story about how I was learning skills that would help me when I took over his business. And that the military would give me credibility. He bought it, and I earned time away from the bastard.”
“Then someone killed him.”
“Yes, they did. If you’re waiting for me to shed a tear about that, you’ll be waiting a while.”
“So why the identity change? Your father was dead.”
“And being dead, his enemies had no one to come after. They would have turned to me.”
Lamar nodded. “Yeah, okay, I get that.” He took a sip of his drink. “On the whole, you’ve been remarkably honest. Giving Ellie carte blanche to talk with me was a risk.”
“I’m disposed to trust you because Ellie does, and she’s no fool. The jury’s still out on whether I like you.”
“Cheers to that,” Lamar said, lifting his glass in toast.
“But this isn’t about you, Detective, as much as you might like to think it is. It’s not even about me. It’s about Ellie. It’s about a woman I hurt deeply once, and I don’t intend to ever hurt again. Not being able to talk to you was hurting her. I’m sorry if that puts an unexpected and unwanted burden on you, but like I said, this isn’t about you, and your burdens aren’t my concern.”
“They are if I decide to arrest you.”
“No. That would be a different burden. An irritation that I’d have to fight. A waste of my time and my money. But I’d beat the charge. All things being equal, though, I’d rather not bother.”
Lamar tossed back the rest of his whiskey in one swallow, then put the glass on the table with a clunk. He stood, and for the first time in his life, Devlin couldn’t read a man he was negotiating with. Probably because this wasn’t a negotiation. Business was business, but emotions were something else entirely. And he had no idea how Lamar’s emotions were going to play out.
“You hurt her, and all bets are off.”
Devlin fought not to show his relief as Lamar continued. “I find out you’re just a shined up version of your father, and I will take you down.”
“I wouldn’t blame you.”
Lamar stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I liked you fine before Ellie came back. You seemed like a solid leader in the community. A guy who gave back and cared. So I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt now.”
Devlin stood as well. “That’s appreciated. Though I should probably tell you that before Ellie came back, I didn’t think about you at all. I didn’t even have a clue you existed.”
Lamar chuckled. “Well, guess I fixed that problem.”
“I’d say you di
d. Or, more accurately, Ellie did.” He paused. “She loves you, you know.”
Lamar shook his head. “Oh, hell, no. It’s not like that. There was a time I wouldn’t have kicked her out of my bed, but we are long past that. If we tease, don’t think—”
“I know. What I mean is that she loves you. You’re one of her closest friends. So whatever you choose to do with the information about me—well, you’ve got a pass there as far as I’m concerned. But if you do anything else that hurts her, be forewarned that the scar will go deep.”
To Devlin’s surprise, Lamar grinned. “If that’s the way you think, Saint, then I guess we understand each other.”
“I think we do.” He extended his hand. “Detective.”
A moment passed, and then Lamar’s hand closed around his, a firm, solid handshake.
“Your life’s a hell of a story, Saint. Now that our girl’s part of it again, make sure it doesn’t turn into a goddamn tragedy, okay?”
“Agreed,” Devlin said, surprised and pleased to realize he was starting to genuinely like this guy.
He offered him another drink, but Lamar said he was getting up early to play golf with friends before going with Ellie to LA. “Does it bother you? The way she’s doubling down to investigate Peter and how he got mixed up with your father and all of that?”
“A bit,” he admitted. “Less now that you know the score.”
For a moment Lamar looked puzzled. “You thought we might stumble across something and I’d make the connection. Figure out who you are.”
“I’m afraid someone already has.”
Lamar frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Devlin opened his phone and showed Lamar the copy of the text Ellie had forwarded. “Sent from a burner,” he said. “Untraceable.”
“Fuck,” Lamar said, his eyes narrowing as he frowned. “I don’t like seeing anyone harass our girl, but this may fizzle out to nothing.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’m guessing they think Ellie doesn’t know who your father is. Their big reveal will go over like a lead balloon.”