“And me?” Madison wished the words back almost as soon as she’d said them, hating the way they made her sound.
Gabriel’s smile indicated he’d followed her train of thought and was amused. “Besides working on a profile for our killer, why don’t you talk to Cullen and his cronies? I want to know which players left in the game hold the power. And more importantly, I want to know exactly what Cullen’s involvement in this process has been, starting with Frederick Aston and moving right through to Candace Patterson. We know he was involved immediately following Stewart’s murder. I want to know if he was involved with the others. And you, Madison, are just the person to find out.”
From anyone else it would have been a compliment. But Gabriel didn’t do praise. From him it was a gauntlet, a goading challenge to find out what exactly her godfather was up to, how deeply he was involved. And if she’d truly believed in his innocence, Gabriel’s challenge wouldn’t have bothered her.
But it did.
Chapter Eleven
“Janice Stewart needed peace. It was as simple as that.” Cullen leaned against the windowsill in his office, watching Madison, trying to ascertain the impetus behind her questions. “She was walking a fine line and I didn’t want to push her over the edge.”
“But according to Dr. Martin, there was some question as to cause of death.”
“At the time it seemed likely that the fall killed him. And even if I’d suspected a heart attack, I wouldn’t have had reason to believe there’d been foul play. Not then. The sheriff was convinced that it was an accident. And even Dr. Martin didn’t suspect anything nefarious. So I told Janice to bury her husband.” Cullen shrugged and picked up a pencil, twirling it between his fingers. “I wish to hell I’d done it differently, but it’s not like I can go back and change it.”
“So why didn’t you tell me?” There was a note of doubt in her voice. A niggle of worry made him wish he’d left her out of this. Maybe she was too good—saw too much.
“I didn’t think about it. I mean really, Madison, it’s not exactly earth-shattering news.”
“It depends on how you look at it, I suppose.” She sat back, her eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re the one who started this investigation, after all. So I guess it seems a bit surprising to find out that you actually did something to hinder our chances of finding the truth, and then, conveniently, forgot to share the fact.”
“You’re making more of it than necessary. I’m not the enemy. And my telling Janice Stewart she didn’t have to subject her husband’s body to an autopsy is hardly cause for concern. In hindsight it turns out it would have been helpful, but there was no way I could have known it at the time.” He watched her face, relieved to see her relax.
“I’m sorry to be such a pest about this.” Her smile was apologetic. “But Gabriel was concerned, and—”
“And sent you in to handle the old man?” Cullen cut her off with an answering smile.
“Something like that.” She shrugged.
“So what do you think of Gabriel Roarke?” Cullen sat down behind his desk. It was time for a change of subject, and Gabriel seemed just the ticket.
“He’s a bit arrogant.”
“An understatement surely, but he’s good at what he does and his attitude only contributes to that success.”
“How did you first get to know him?” Madison sat back in her chair, her fingers tightening on the arms. It seemed his goddaughter was not immune to Gabriel’s charms. Or perhaps she simply couldn’t abide working with the man. Either was a possibility and would most likely lead to the same conclusion. At least he hoped it would.
“When he was in Delta Force, he was assigned to a mission I commanded.”
“Come again? You were never in the army.”
“Maybe commanded is too strong a word. But it was my mission nevertheless. A man in my employ got stuck behind the wrong border during the first war with Iraq. He was captured and held hostage. The official U.S. stance on the matter was, of course, that we don’t negotiate for hostages. But I needed him out, and with a little cajoling, the powers that be agreed to a rescue effort.”
“And Gabriel headed the team.”
“Exactly.” Cullen nodded. “He was the leader of a black ops group referred to as Logistical Command, the kind of men who are called in when all else fails. In fact, they used to refer to themselves as Last Chance, Inc.”
“And your man was last chance status?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’d tried every other avenue, and nothing could be done. Gabriel and his men were my last option.”
“And did they succeed?”
“Yes,” he said. “But not without cost. My man got out alive, but the others weren’t so lucky. Eight of them went in. Only three came out.”
She stared down at her hands, digesting the information and then looked up to meet his gaze. “Payton and Nigel were part of the team, as well.”
“Nigel was serving as an adjunct to Delta Force at the time, and Payton was part of Gabriel’s team.”
“And that’s why he asked them here. To be a part of your latest last-ditch effort.”
“I suppose so. All I know is that I’d trust Gabriel with my life.”
“You might have to.” She stood up and walked over to the credenza, picking up a photograph, one of her when she was about twelve. “Why me?”
He considered deliberately misunderstanding the question, then thought better of it. Madison would see right through it. “I thought you’d add something to the mix. Gabriel is sort of a wild card, shooting from the hip, so to speak. He’s good, but I thought you’d provide much-needed balance.”
“Except that the man can’t stand me.” There was a flash of something across her face, something personal. Cullen contained a smile.
“I think you’re overreacting. He’s aloof, I’ll grant you that. And he certainly doesn’t like the idea of sharing command, but it isn’t personal. Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“No.” Madison shook her head, still staring at the picture in her hands. “There’s nothing.”
“Then I predict you’ll manage just fine. You’re a valuable asset to the team, Madison, whether Gabriel realizes it or not.”
“Thanks.” Her smile was warm, and he felt a flood of emotion. She’d been a part of his life practically from the day of her birth, and at times it was hard for him to realize she was no longer a little girl. “It’s not like I haven’t handled worse.”
Rick Wagner. He’d taken Madison to the cleaners, both financially and emotionally. She’d fallen for his charm and good looks, not realizing it was only an illusion, that the man himself was nothing but a leech.
Cullen sighed, sorry that she’d had to find out for herself. That she still bore the scars. But there was nothing he or her father could have done. Some things children had to learn for themselves. No matter the consequences.
“Cullen, we’ve got to talk.” Jeremy Bosner burst into the room, his face flushed, his anger apparent. He stopped, momentarily flustered to find Madison in the office. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I’ve interrupted something.”
Madison held up a hand, shaking her head. “I was just leaving.”
“No, stay.” Cullen kept his voice personable, but it wasn’t a request.
Madison shot a look at Jeremy, who nodded his agreement. With an answering nod, she replaced the photograph, moved to sit again in her chair.
“I just got off the phone with Chiao Chien.” Jeremy gave Cullen an appraising look. “We’ve got to get this thing under control or we’re all going down with the ship.”
“I wasn’t aware you knew him,” Cullen said. Chiao was the primary negotiator for the Chinese delegation, and as far as Cullen knew not a close confidant of Jeremy’s.
“I know who I need to know, Cullen.” Jeremy shrugged, walking over to the bar to pour himself a drink.
“Anything to protect your interests.” Cullen sat back, watching his friend, trying to
read between the lines. Jeremy always had hidden agendas.
“As if you haven’t been doing the same thing. The honest truth is that we both have a hell of a lot riding on the success of this agreement. And with consortium members dropping like flies we’ve got problems. According to Chiao the delegation is restless—afraid that whatever it is that’s plaguing us will turn on them, as well.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Cullen steepled his fingers, still studying the man. “And I’ve said as much to Chiao.”
“Well, I think you’re wrong, especially if the media keeps us front and center.” He tossed a copy of the Daily News on the table, Candace Patterson’s face splashed across the front page. “I thought the task force was supposed to take care of this.” He shot a look at Madison, his expression a mixture of anger and apology. He’d always had a weak spot for Madison.
“Jeremy, we’ve only been working a few days.” Madison’s tone was neutral. “These things take time.”
“I know you’re trying.” Jeremy’s voice rose, his flush deepening. “But time is running out.”
“They’re professionals, Jeremy. They’ll get to the bottom of this.” Cullen pushed the newspaper aside, and leaned forward to meet his friend’s gaze.
“Well, they’d better do it quickly or it’ll be a pointless exercise.” Jeremy sighed. “The Chinese are ready to walk. All we need is one more murder and they’ll be signing with the Russians. And I don’t have to tell you how that will sit with the president.”
“It’s a bluff. You know as well as I do that Russian technology is far from cutting edge. The Chinese need us. Their threats are nothing more than posturing. At most it might cost us a bit in the deal, but they won’t walk.”
“You’d better be right.” There was an implied threat there that Cullen couldn’t afford to ignore. “Or we may just need to rethink your value as a member of the consortium.”
Cullen’s laughter was forced, a cover for the surge of dread that ran through him. “I don’t see how you can lay any of this at my feet. I’ve been screaming about conspiracy for months now.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Let’s just say if we need a scapegoat, you’re it. You knew the risks when you stepped in to take Bingham’s place.”
Madison shifted slightly. Cullen had almost forgotten she was in the room. He returned his attention to Jeremy, struggling to hang on to his composure. “I did what I thought was best for the consortium.”
“Without asking anyone else’s opinion.”
“Are you saying that Cullen assumed the chairmanship unilaterally?” Madison asked, her voice deceptively soft.
“Not exactly,” Jeremy allowed. “I only meant that there were others equally qualified. Possibly even more so.”
“You’re talking about yourself.” Cullen threw the word out like a gauntlet.
“I was next in line.” Jeremy shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “And there are people who think I might have been a better bet. Look, the whole idea was to keep this all on the back burner until we got to the bottom of what was happening. But thanks to all of this, we’re getting more attention than ever. The murders are continuing. And your team has done nothing.”
“I told you, we’ve been together for less than a week,”
Madison interrupted, anger flashing in her eyes. “In that amount of time you can’t expect miracles.”
“I know that, Madison. And I’m not trying to throw stones. Especially at you.” His look was imploring. “But I need this accord to go through, and for my investment to pay off. It’s as simple as that. And no matter how unpleasant the prospect, I’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure that’s exactly what happens.” His attention shifted back to Cullen. “Am I making myself clear?”
Cullen swallowed a bitter retort. There was no sense antagonizing the man. “I hear what you’re saying, but I think you’re worrying about nothing. Madison and Gabriel have excellent credentials. Between them they’ll put a stop to this. Mark my words.”
“I hope so,” Jeremy said, his gaze encompassing them both. “If not, there’ll be hell to pay. If this accord fails, Cullen, I’ll be the least of your problems.”
* * *
“Well, if this is how the other half lives, I, for one, wouldn’t mind giving it a go.” Gabe stepped into the heavily paneled entry hall, his eyes passing over the lavish fittings to settle on what could only be an original Picasso.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Nigel whispered, watching the butler disappear behind a pair of double mahogany doors. Candace Patterson’s family was definitely part of the moneyed elite that made up much of Westchester County.
“You sound as if you know.” Gabe pulled his attention from the Picasso to frown at Nigel.
“There have been moments. And believe me, that’s more than enough.”
Gabe opened his mouth to retort, but before he could do so a woman stepped into the foyer. She looked to be about sixty, her white hair fashionably cut and arranged with the precision of a military assault. Her suit reeked of money, and Gabriel had no doubt that the diamonds at her throat and ears were real.
“I’m Bertrice Patterson.” Her voice was low and husky, the telltale mark of a smoker. “Gibson tells me you’re with the police?”
“Actually, we’re a bit higher up the ladder.” Gabe flashed his credentials.
“The FBI? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Gabriel didn’t bother to correct her. The less she knew about who they really were, the better. “We’re investigating your daughter’s murder.”
“I thought it was a robbery?” She fidgeted with her bracelet, spoiling her studied impression of calm.
Gabe exchanged a glance with Nigel. “Forensics indicates she was already dead when she was robbed.”
“Oh, dear God.” The woman’s hand rose to her throat. “I had no idea.”
“Preliminary findings supported a mugging. You’d no way of knowing.” Nigel’s voice was calming, his smile gentle.
“I think I’d best sit down.” She drew a deep fortifying breath, and motioned them through the mahogany doors.
Gabriel followed her into the room, taking in its understated opulence. “Did your daughter have any enemies, Mrs. Patterson?” It was a standard question, and he didn’t expect her to have an answer, but it was a way to relieve some of the tension, to focus her grief toward a solution.
“Not that I know of.” She’d linked her hands together, her knuckles white with the effort. “But then we hadn’t talked recently.”
“You were estranged?” Nigel had taken a seat on a chaise, his posture giving the illusion of breeding, as if he sat in millionaires’ mansions on a daily basis. Mrs. Patterson’s smile was weak, but genuine.
“Not at all. We were quite close. Normally, we talked daily. But she was so busy at work. She hardly ever made it home.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow.
“She had an apartment in the city. When she had an early meeting or was planning on being out late, she stayed there instead of coming home.”
Nigel frowned. “What about her husband?”
Bertrice shook her head, disapproval radiating from her very pores. “He rarely goes to the city anymore.”
“Is he unwell?” Nigel asked.
“No.” She shook her head, her diamonds swaying with the motion. “Just lazy. Fundamentally so, I’m afraid.”
“Is the marriage sound?” Gabriel wondered suddenly if perhaps they’d missed the boat on this one. Maybe there was another suspect.
“In its own way, I suppose. They seem to tolerate each other. And for whatever reason Candace showed no interest in divorce.”
“Is it possible he may have felt differently?”
Bertrice laughed, the sound hollow. “Believe me, he hasn’t the gumption for something like that. And besides, there’s a prenup. With Candace gone, he’s left high and dry.”
“What about work?”
“I wouldn’t know anything at al
l about that.” She shrugged. “You’d need to ask her father.”
Nigel frowned. “I wasn’t aware that Mr. Patterson had anything to do with Lexco.”
Again she laughed, but this time the sound was more natural. “He doesn’t. But then he isn’t Candace’s real father. I’m afraid I was a bit indiscreet in my younger days. Fortunately Harold overlooked the fact.” She waved a bejeweled hand through the air as though dismissing the memory. “Lex Rymon is Candace’s father. Although it was years before Candace got him to own up to the fact. Rather a complicated mess, our family.”
“Was Mr. Rymon close to your daughter?”
“They got along, but I’d say it was more a business understanding than a father-daughter relationship. My daughter was single-minded about making it on her own. Lex gave her the opportunity to do just that.”
“Work for her father.” Nigel was stating the obvious, but his tone conveyed much more.
“In a manner, yes. But not in the usual Daddy’s-little-girl way. Believe me, she wouldn’t have lasted at Lexco if she wasn’t up to it. Lex simply wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“I take it he’s not the sentimental type.”
Her smile was brittle. “In our circles sentiment is dangerous.”
Gabe sensed the interview was over. He stood up, not sure exactly what they’d gained, but accepting that it was time to move on. “Thank you for your time.”
Nigel followed his lead, standing up, his expression conciliatory. “We’re sorry to have intruded.”
“It’s all right,” she said, her gaze encompassing them both. “I want to know what happened to my daughter, and anything you gentlemen can do toward that end is a welcome intrusion.”
The butler materialized at her side, almost from thin air, and with a stiff nod, escorted them from the room. Gabe stepped out into the sunlight, squinting in the afternoon glare.
“Well, that was a colossal waste of time.” Nigel reached into his coat pocket for his sunglasses, and put them on, the action masking his expression.
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