Rake: Wolfes of Manhattan Four

by HELEN HARDT

  I closed my eyes and drew in another breath. He’d mentioned stench. I could be holding photos of dead bodies. Of severed limbs. Of…

  God.

  Of my father doing things to…

  I swallowed hard.

  I opened the folder.

  And I gasped.

  “You’re kidding. Fuck.”

  No severed limbs greeted me. Thank God. But I’d have preferred nameless and faceless bodies to what the first photograph showed.

  It was another of Lacey’s old business cards, and this one hadn’t been stomped and rained on.

  “Circumstantial,” I said robotically.

  “Keep going,” Buck prodded.

  I fought back the puke threatening to erupt from my throat and slid the photo of Lacey’s business card over, revealing the next photo.

  I swallowed hard. It was a blue scarf with the initials LW clearly embroidered on it. I swallowed again. “Still circumstantial.”

  “Agreed. Keep going.”

  More and more photos of Lacey’s belongings. Or what appeared to be Lacey’s belongings.

  “Did you take these items?” I asked.

  “Of course I did. I have them all in a safe place. But that’s not what concerns me.”

  “What, then?”

  “These things could be extras. Stuff implicating Lacey could have already been planted.”

  “Why her? Why Lacey?”

  “I’m not sure,” Buck said. “She was Derek’s estate lawyer, but that’s no reason to frame her.”

  “No,” I said, swallowing again. The lump didn’t move. “My father would implicate his kids before he implicated his attorney.”

  “Right, which means…”

  “It means Father Jim—or someone else—is implicating Lacey. But why?”

  Buck didn’t need to answer. I already knew. Father Jim was trying to lead the authorities on a wild goose chase so he wouldn’t be implicated. He was afraid my father had left a loophole somewhere that would lead to him.

  Derek Wolfe didn’t leave loopholes. I knew that better than anyone, but Father Jim, apparently, did.

  “I think we can use this to our advantage,” I said to Buck. “Jim is afraid. So afraid that he’s framing an innocent woman for a murder he might have had a hand in.”

  “Framing an innocent lawyer is nothing compared to what the bastard has already done,” Buck reminded me.

  “True. He’s evil. But now we know what he’s up to, and we can fight it.”

  “You don’t know everything,” Buck said. “You haven’t seen the last photo yet.”

  41

  Zee

  I ran, blood dribbling from the cuts at the tops of my breasts. Something to stop the bleeding. I needed to find something I could use as a bandage. Was that part of their game? To help me?

  I felt like I was living in the world of the Hunger Games.

  Only the strong will survive.

  Was anyone else being chased? Or were they focused on me?

  I’d been running and hiding for a while now. I had no idea of the time, as time had seemed to suspend itself since I’d awoken in the cement room.

  My stomach growled. So far, they’d fed me well. But would they continue to do so, now that they’d let me out and the game was on?

  Survival of the fittest.

  They’d considered me fit, so they’d given me a handicap by cutting me. The cut was deep enough to hurt, deep enough to bleed, yet not deep enough to slow me down. Already my blood was beginning to clot.

  They wanted me in pain. They didn’t want me bleeding out.

  Could I outsmart them?

  Maybe, on an even playing field. But this was far from an even playing field. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what I’d find down here. I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from. I didn’t know where I could go to the bathroom.

  I knew nothing.

  Nothing except my life was in jeopardy and would most likely be over soon.

  Instinct required that I survive.

  They must have given me a head start, as I didn’t hear anyone following me. I found a secluded corner, sat down, and applied pressure with my hands to the cuts on my breasts. I couldn’t afford to wait here for long, but if I could stop the bleeding altogether, I’d be able to move faster.

  “Help me.”

  I cocked my head at the soft voice. No one was here.

  I was imagining things. I had to be. And why not? I was fighting for my life. Fighting for my future.

  And my future was the next minute.

  If I was lucky, the next hour.

  “Help me.”

  “Stop it,” I said aloud. “You’re imagining things.”

  “I hear you,” the voice said. “Help me. Please.”

  Still my imagination. A boobytrap, probably. I wasn’t falling for it.

  When I finally had stopped the bleeding, I rose. I couldn’t run now or the precarious clots wouldn’t hold. Which was, of course, the point.

  I inched slowly against the wall, the cement rough against my back. I turned a corner, and—

  I clasped my hand to my mouth.

  “Help me.”

  A young woman lay curled in a fetal position. She was naked, as I was, and her head had been shaved. And she looked young. So young. I was only nineteen myself.

  I knelt down. “Hey. Who are you?”

  “Please help me.”

  “Get up. Come on. Get up.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. You have to.” I shook her gently.

  She sobbed quietly. “That hurts.”

  I looked closely. I didn’t see any blood, so she was in better condition than I was. “You can. Now get the hell up!” I grabbed her shoulders.

  “Aauuuggghhh!” she shrieked.

  I broke my hold quickly. “What did they do to you?”

  “My shoulders. They’re both dislocated.”

  “Damn. I’m so sorry.”

  “Can you pop them back in?”

  “I can’t. I’m not a doctor.” And if I didn’t get out of here, I never would be. “I might do more damage.”

  “Then please. Kill me.”

  My heart dropped to my stomach. Kill her? I couldn’t kill anyone.

  “Please,” she said again. “I’d rather die here than have them torture me anymore. Please.”

  “I…”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Zinnia. Like the flower.”

  “I’m Katelyn.”

  “Katelyn. I’m so sorry.”

  “Please, Zinnia.”

  “My friends call me Zee.”

  “Please, Zee.”

  “You can’t ask this of me. How will I live with myself?”

  She scoffed softly. “Live with yourself? You won’t live through this, Zee. You won’t have to live with yourself for long.”

  I considered her words. Yes, I actually considered them. But not for long.

  “I’m so sorry,” I told Katelyn. “I’m not a killer.”

  She closed her eyes, groaning. “Then run. I hear them coming.”

  I turned my head. Sure enough, faint footsteps.

  “Maybe it’s not them,” I said.

  “It’s always them. Now do as I tell you. Get the hell out of here.”

  “I can’t leave you.”

  “If you can’t pop my shoulders back, and you’re not willing to kill me, there’s nothing more you can do.”

  “I can carry you.”

  “Then we’ll both die.”

  My survival instinct flew into overdrive as the footfalls got louder. Katelyn was right. Survival of the fittest. I hated myself for leaving her, but I fled.

  And I never saw her again.

  42

  Reid

  I slowly slid the last photo into view. It wasn’t an item belonging to Lacey. No. It was a document.

  A marriage certificate.

  I gulped.

  “No,” I said. “Thi
s can’t be.”

  “It is.”

  Derek Wolfe—my father—had married another woman.

  And according to the date on the certificate, they got married before he married my mother. He was young. Really young.

  “What does this mean?” I asked.

  “It could mean nothing,” Buck said. “It could be a forgery that Jim was going to use to blackmail your father.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “My father had way more resources than Jim. No way would Jim be stupid enough to even try.”

  “How do you suppose,” Buck began, “your father got Jim to take part in his games?”

  “Sickos attract sickos,” I said. “They’d known each other since they were kids. I’m sure they went around killing small animals and getting off on it.” God, I was going to throw up right here in broad daylight sitting on this damned bench.

  “True enough. But have you ever considered that perhaps Father Jim was the instigator?”

  “Over Derek Wolfe?” I scoffed. “No way. This has my father’s stink all over it.”

  “Does it, though?”

  “The man molested my sister from the time she was six years old. You don’t get much more disgusting than that.”

  “Oh, you do. Your sister didn’t deserve what happened to her, but she’s alive. Many women aren’t. I’ve pulled the clippings.”

  “They weren’t all buried?”

  “The women disappeared inside New York city limits in the five years before Zee did. I have names, but I can’t find any more information. No next of kin. Nothing.”

  “Buried,” I said. “He paid them off. They’re dead?”

  “Most likely. No remains were ever found.”

  “But the smell…” I wrinkled my nose.

  “Yes. Rotting flesh. The odor was down there, but no bodies. Which means they continued killing, but again, they disposed of the bodies.”

  “Are there any news stories after Zee’s time?”

  Buck shook his head. “They upped their game after Zee escaped, but given what they put Zee through, I can imagine it got worse. A lot worse.”

  I sighed. Buck was right, of course. Absolutely right.

  “So anyway,” Buck went on, “we have three possibilities here. The marriage certificate is a fake. Or it’s not a fake, and Jim was holding it over your father’s head. Or it’s not a fake, and Jim was hiding it for your father.”

  “My father could have easily had it destroyed himself if he’d wanted to.”

  I read the certificate. Irene Lucent. Was she still alive? Did she even exist? Easy enough to find out.

  “He could have. But he didn’t. Or at least he didn’t destroy this one.”

  “Which makes me think it’s a fake.”

  “Think about it, though,” Buck said. “If your father was actually married to a woman before your mother, like you said, he could have destroyed all the evidence long ago. In fact, he probably would have.”

  “So you agree it’s a fake.”

  “No, I think we’re attacking this from the wrong angle. Father Jim is about the longest relationship your father had, other than his parents, who both died when you were a kid.”

  “True.”

  “Jim and Derek were childhood friends. They probably trusted each other implicitly. So it’s feasible that Derek trusted Jim with the biggest secret of his life.”

  “Why would a first marriage be such a secret?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that question,” Buck said. “It’s something we need to find out.”

  “My mother,” I said.

  “That was my first thought, but she likely doesn’t know.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You really think Connie Wolfe wouldn’t hold this over your father’s head?”

  “Good point, but that could be why he destroyed all evidence of it.”

  “It could. But I did some digging. There’s no record in any government database of this marriage. But…there is a record in the church’s logs.”

  “Okay…”

  “And here’s the kicker,” Buck said. “This particular church also keeps records of all marriages officiated there that have been annulled or dissolved. This marriage doesn’t appear in any of those records.”

  “Fuck me,” I said. “Are you telling me my father was a bigamist?”

  “I’m not telling you anything. I’m saying it’s a possibility we need to investigate.”

  I exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled again. “Easy enough to figure out. I can find out if my father was sending money to some kind of unknown entity. Keeping this Irene woman.”

  “I’d bet you’ll find something.”

  “Who the hell is she?” I shook my head. “Why would she stay with such a psychopath? Surely she knew what was going on with him and my sister, even if she didn’t know about his hunting games.”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Buck said.

  “Right. Shit. First, we have to make sure Lacey doesn’t get implicated any further.”

  “As I told you, I took all the items I found. Doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Fuck.” I raked my fingers through my hair.

  “Honestly, I’m surprised Jim—or someone else—hasn’t begun planting them yet.”

  “Me too.”

  Unless he had, and we’d missed it. Or…unless he knew we’d find the church underground and he left them there on purpose.

  Then there was Hank Morgan, who seemed determined to pin this on one of us.

  He was dirty.

  I felt it in my bones.

  “Thanks for everything, Buck.” I stood. “I’ve got to run. Time to pay a visit to dear old Mom.”

  Connie Wolfe lived uptown in a lavish apartment. Her spousal maintenance, which had stopped after Dad’s death, had kept her living the high life. How long would she be able to stay in this place? I had no idea. Didn’t really care, either.

  “I’m here to see my mother, Dexter,” I said to the doorman.

  “Very good, Mr. Wolfe. Is she expecting you?”

  “Honestly, I don’t give a rat’s ass.” I slipped him a couple Benjamins.

  “Fair enough.” He opened the door. “Go ahead.”

  I fetched the keycard to my mother’s place out of my wallet. She didn’t know I had it, but my secret would be out in a few minutes. I walked briskly to her private elevator, slid the keycard, and ascended.

  The elevator doors opened into my mother’s lavish apartment. One of her servants nearly dropped the tray she was carrying. “Mr. Wolfe!”

  “I’m sorry to startle you. I need to see my mother.”

  “She’s having a massage right now,” the woman said.

  “Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t interrupt that.”

  “That would be best, sir.”

  “I’m sure it would be. However, I’m in a hurry.” I scurried through the foyer and living area, up the stairs, and down the hall to my mother’s meditation chamber. Yeah, that was what she called it.

  The aroma of lavender and chamomile crept through the doorway. Blech. Some people found the scent relaxing. I found it putrid. Or maybe it was just this whole situation that was putrid. I touched the door handle. It could very well be locked, but I had a hunch.

  I turned it.

  Voilà! I opened the door and made my way through the chamomile fog to—

  Oh, God. No way would I ever be able to unsee what laid before my eyes.

  My mother’s massage therapist—if you could call him that—had his head between her spread legs.

  If I weren’t already a mess, this would have put me over the edge.

  My mother was still a beautiful woman with a great body.

  I’d never wanted to see this much of it, though.

  I cleared my throat. Loudly, over the Native American flute music.

  The head between my mother’s legs shot up.

  “Good afternoon, Mother,” I said.

  T
he therapist threw a sheet over my mother’s nudity. Good call. I’d be sure he got a bonus, though eating my mother might negate that. Did he fuck her too?

  And why was I even asking myself that question? Of course he did.

  “You’re dismissed,” I said to him.

  “Yes, sir.” He moved quickly to exit the room.

  I didn’t get a good look at him, but he was tall and well built. I wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a lineup, though. I probably should have looked at his face.

  I just didn’t want to see my mother’s lubricant on his chin.

  I’d been feeling sick all day, and this was the clincher. I swallowed. Hard.

  My mother popped up into a sitting position. “Reid! What are you doing here?”

  “You do know solicitation is against the law, right? I could have you arrested.”

  “I wasn’t paying him.”

  “Connie, you were there when I was born, so you know damned well it wasn’t yesterday. Of course you were paying him for sexual services. I won’t hesitate to have you both arrested.”

  “Really? You might want to talk to you brother before you make those kinds of threats.”

  “My brother backs me completely.”

  “Does he?”

  Was she talking about Rock or Roy? Probably Rock, though it didn’t really matter. “Yes,” I said confidently. “He does.”

  “Then ask yourself why he agreed to continue paying me seven figures a month, Reid.”

  “Rock?” That didn’t sound like Rock.

  “Of course Rock. Roy has no access to business coffers. Surprised, are you?”

  “No,” I lied. “You’re our mother. We’re not going to let you flounder.” Another lie. I’d never let my mother live on the streets, but she sure as hell didn’t need to live like this.

  “I see.”

  Did she believe me? Rock and I would be having a conversation later, but I hadn’t come here to let my mother pit my brother and me against each other.

  “Rock, Roy, Riley, and I are all on the same side, Mom. So don’t try your little mind games. I came here for another reason.”

  “I hope it’s good enough to interrupt my massage.”

  “That was hardly a massage,” I said, “and yeah, I think it’s more than good enough.”

  “All right, for God’s sake. Let me get dressed and order some lunch or something.”