“Hurry up, little dude,” he said to Stanley. “We don’t want her locking us out.”
* * *
The riff of a blues guitar ripped through the veil of sleep, startling Brianna awake.
What the hell?
Then a deep voice sounded in the other room.
Aaron.
He’d camped out in her living room to protect his witness, Stanley, who had decided he’d rather sleep in the bed curled up next to her five minutes after she’d crawled beneath her bedding. He’d been like a little personal heating pad—or bundle—relaxing her enough to go to sleep immediately.
She groaned as she rolled over to look at the clock through half-opened eyes. Nine. She’d woken up at seven-thirty to call in sick and let the office know about Paula, promptly rolling over and going back to sleep. Curling on her side again, she pulled Stanley in closer, stroking his fur. She prayed he didn’t have fleas, and he probably needed a bath, but she couldn’t help giving him a little loving. After all he’d lost his owner and probably his best friend.
A knock sounded on her door frame.
She looked over her shoulder to find Aaron standing there in his jeans and shirt, his hair a little messy and dangling the dog leash in one hand. He’d always been handsome, but dang, who knew he’d looks so sexy right out of bed?
“I think I’d better take him outside. We need to be at the hospital when Kirk F gets there to get Nana.”
Agreeing, set Stanley on the floor, who promptly ran over to Aaron, wagging his tail and waited for his leash to be attached. Once the pair left the doorway, she slowly crawled out of bed and headed to her bathroom. She wasn’t a morning person on a good day with eight hours of sleep. They’d gotten to bed about four, so five hours was not going to make her Sally Sunshine. Caffeine was imperative. A lot of caffeine.
By the time the boys came back inside, she’d managed a quick shower and had thrown on a comfortable sweater, jeans and socks. Spring might be on the calendar, but true to the northeast corner of Ohio, it was going to be a cold, drizzly day. If she and Aaron were going to be out in the elements, she was going to be warm.
She sat at the island sipping a cup of spiced tea when Aaron and Stanley entered the kitchen. She’d opened a can of tuna and put it in a bowl on the floor by the water bowl she’d established for Stanley last night.
“I know he’s not a cat, but I really don’t have anything else he can eat,” she said as Aaron unleashed the pup, who happily dug into the food.
“Coffee?” he asked.
She nodded at the one cup coffee maker and the box of variety coffee pods she’d set out on the counter next to a big coffee mug. When Kirk F stayed with her, he’d complained about her love of tea in the morning. To keep the peace, she’d bought the single cup maker, which she could use for tea and hot chocolate, too.
Thankfully, Aaron didn’t seem to be a chatty morning person, either. With a fluidity and efficiency of a man used to fending for himself, he made his coffee, snagged his phone from his coat pocket and joined her at the island stools. They drank in companionable silence.
“Who was on the phone?” she finally asked once she knew she wouldn’t snap at him. That change in her personality usually happened near the end of her first cup of tea.
“Jake Carlisle. He had the number for the profiler he suggested I talk to.”
“That was fast,” she said then drained the last of her tea before taking it to the sink and setting it in with yesterday’s dishes.
“Yeah, he said Carson, that’s the guy, was on a break right now and had time to look at the case,” Aaron said, joining her at the sink. “Which means I need to go into the office and find out what we’ve gotten from the crime scene last night.”
“They’ll have results already?” She took his mug, rinsed out the coffee dregs and set in with the others.
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m afraid they’re going to only be able to tell me what they haven’t found. Like no fingerprints.” He sighed and turned his neck until it cracked.
She tried not to cringe. “But you need all the details you do have to get this Carson guy started.”
“Right. And I’m going to need to bring my captain up to speed on things.” He turned to lean one hip against the counter. “You think you’ll be okay staying with Paula this morning?”
“I’d already planned to.”
“Then we’d best get to the hospital. I don’t want Nana mad at me. She might not send me anymore Christmas cookies,” he said with a grin.
“She sends you some, too?” Surprised that she wasn’t the only one getting the year-end treats.
He nodded. “Three years running. Kirk F stops by the precinct with a big container every year. I’m lucky if I have a few to take home at the end of the shift.”
She grinned. “I get to keep the whole thing to myself.”
He groaned. “Now that’s just not fair.”
“Maybe you should give Kirk F your address,” she said with a laugh and moved around him to get her shoes from beside her bed.
It felt good to tease him. When he’d informed her he was spending the night no matter what she said—in no way had it been a suggestion or question—she’d thought it would be uncomfortable, awkward. But it hadn’t. Other than Kirk F, who really didn’t count, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so relaxed around a man. Even before she’d been taken and abused.
Seated on her bed, one shoe on, the other in her hand, she paused and stared off into space.
Had she ever been relaxed around a man? Comfortable? Not trying to figure out how they meant to use her or how she was going to use them? It had taken her weeks of therapy to realize she didn’t like the person she’d been before the incident and her manipulation of men might’ve put her at risk for the whole ordeal to have taken place. Yes, hundreds of women who’d been caught up in the sex-trafficking network were rescued and the perpetrators—Senator Klein, his son and other political cronies—had been tried in federal court and sat in prison because of her actions. That didn’t dismiss her own faults, her curiosity and sticking her nose into other people’s business to maneuver herself up in the company. For that she had to take responsibility.
“Ready?”
Startled back to the present, she looked up to see Aaron once more at her bedroom door, Stanley patiently seated at his feet. Any other day they’d look like a family going out for a nice walk. But they weren’t a family, and this wasn’t any ordinary day. They were on the trail of a killer.
10
About time you two showed up,” Nana greeted them as she wiggled out of the chair in Paula’s room. “My grandson got here half an hour ago.”
“Where is Kirk F?” Aaron asked, handing Stanley’s leash to Brianna.
“Boy’s gone to get himself some breakfast. The nurses were nice enough to bring me a tray with little missy’s breakfast this morning. Told the boy, I was too tired and too old to be making him food. At his age, if you starve, you’re just plain stupid,” she said wrapping her knitting project around the needles and big ball of yarn she’d been using. After she’d gathered up her things, she turned to eye Aaron. “You gonna need me again tonight?”
“I don’t need…a sitter,” Paula said from her bed, looking a little less pale and sickly this morning. “Besides, the doctor said…I might go home…later today.”
“Key word being might.” Nana stared at her over the rim of her glasses.
Paula actually rolled her eyes like a petulant teenager.
“Don’t give me that look,” Nana said, one hand on her hip. “You heard what that breathing guy said, you need to rest after your treatment and let the medicine work. Go on back to sleep while we chat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Paula said with a little smile and closed her eyes.
Nana walked over to stand between them and the bed, her back to Paula. “Girl’s exhausted. Heck, I am, too. This room has been busier than a beauty parlor the day before Easter. The nurses came in
just before dawn to check on her. Change of shift, I guess. Then they came back in with medicine. Then breakfast. After that the doctor came in to check on her, with the nurse and what looked like a junior doctor. Barely had time for her to get her teeth brushed in the bathroom and that breathing guy showed up to do that breathing treatment.”
“I remember how exhausted I was when I was in the hospital. Not really a great place to get any rest,” Brianna said. “She’ll do better with that once they think she’s well enough to be discharged home and can get out of here. I did.”
“You only did better because I was there to protect you,” a chipper voice sounded behind them.
All three turned to see a grinning Kirk F standing in the doorway, a shopping bag in his hand.
“I thought I told you to get breakfast in the cafeteria,” Nana said, sounding none too pleased. “You went shopping instead?”
“I did eat, Nana. Knew Brianna was doing the next shift and thought she could use some chocolate.”
“Thank you, Kirk F.” Brianna grinned and reached for the bag again.
He pulled it back. “Not you, the sick lady in the bed. I remember how you hated being cooped up. You in a room for hours? She’s gonna need some chocolate to get through it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m not that bad,” she said and reached for the bag.
This time he let her have it. She delved inside and pulled out a bag of Godiva chocolate covered caramels. “If you were buying these for Paula, why did you get my favorite?”
“Because he’s a smart boy, that’s why,” Nana answered for him, then gathered up her bags. “And he’d better get me on home now.”
“Yeah, the boss called and told me I needed to get the house ready for you,” Kirk F said, taking one of the bags from his grandmother as he turned to Aaron. “Anything special you want loaded in the fridge?”
“Healthy stuff,” he said, escorting the young man and his grandmother out of the room and out of earshot of Brianna. “Dog food for a thirty-pound dog and more of those chocolates.”
“You’re putting warrior woman in the safehouse on lock down, too?” Kirk F stopped mid-stride to stare at him like he’d gone loony.
“Maybe.”
“You must be outta your mind. She doesn’t like being out of her own space.”
“Which is why I said maybe. You just be sure things are clean and ready for them, in case the docs cut Paula loose.” He turned to head back into the hospital room, then paused and looked over his shoulder. “Pick up some dog treats while you’re at it.”
“You got it,” Kirk F said with a wave of his hand as he hurried after his grandmother who was already stepping onto the elevator.
“You don’t have to…stay with me,” Paula was saying to Brianna, who had seated herself on the edge of the bed with Stanley curled up between them, as Aaron walked back into the room. “Don’t need…a sitter.”
“No, you don’t.” Brianna patted her hand. “What you need is a friend to just be here for you. And besides, I’m planning to curl up in that chair and take a long nap. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Brianna glanced at Aaron, worry and sadness in her eyes. He inhaled slowly. There was never a good or easy way to tell someone they’d lost a loved one. Even harder to tell them the cause was murder.
“I didn’t dream that phone call last night, did I?” Paula asked, shifting her gaze from Brianna to him and back again, tears spilling out of her light brown eyes. “Art really is dead.”
Stanley whimpered and crawled over to snuggle in her lap.
“I’m sorry, Paula, he is,” Aaron said as gently as he could. He pulled up the straight back chair and sat on the opposite side of the bed from Brianna and the pup. “We found him late last night in an abandoned factory over on Carnegie, not too far from the City Mission.”
She nodded, still holding Stanley close, her hands stroking his wiry fur. “He said he…liked that neighborhood. I checked there…the first night. He wasn’t…there.”
“Stanley actually found him,” Brianna said. “Led us right to the right building. Like he’d been there many times before.”
“How did…how did he die? Heart attack…or something?”
Again, Brianna met Aaron’s gaze in question about how much to tell her. He knew she didn’t want to stress her friend, but he’d always believed in telling people the unvarnished facts. Like taking off a band-aid quick. Pain initially, but it hurt less in the long run.
“No, it wasn’t his heart,” he said, leaning in over his knees. “Art was murdered.”
* * *
“Something up in Cleveland?”
Jake Carlisle looked up from his desk to see Frank Castello standing in his doorway. “Indians’ team batting average?”
“We could only wish,” Castello said, sitting across the desk from him. “Got a call last night.”
“From Cleveland?”
“Yeah. Jeffers wants to use my safehouse.”
Jake leaned back in his office chair. “For?”
“Wants to stash some witnesses there.”
“Brianna one of them?”
Castello gave a half shrug. “Didn’t give me names.”
Jake rocked back and forth in his chair a minute, considering if he should share what he knew about the Cleveland situation with his friend and employee. If Jeffers had already contacted Frank about the safehouse, he’d opened himself up to questions by the big man, which was Castello’s right as the property owner.
“I got a call, too. About four am.”
“Same time as mine.”
Jake nodded. “Probably one right after the other.”
Castello didn’t say anything more. Didn’t ask a question. Just sat there studying him. Waiting. Unnervingly still.
Damn, he’d hate to be on the opposite side of an interrogation from him.
“Said he needed the name of a profiler I trusted,” he finally said.
Castello’s brows shot up for an instant. “Profiler? As in serial killer profiler?”
Jake nodded. “Found a body last night. Homeless guy. Murdered. Staged. Wants to try and get a head start on finding out what’s making this guy tick before more bodies start dropping. Also wants to keep it quiet.”
“To prevent a panic in the media?”
“That and Brianna is somehow mixed up in this.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” Jake couldn’t agree more. “That girl’s been through enough. The media plastered her name and picture in every news outlet—print, online, television, radio—for months during Senator Klein’s and his son’s trials.”
“Tell me about it. We had a hell of a time keeping her protected during that mess.” Castello shook his head, glanced out the office window, then back at him. “Jeffers say how she’s mixed up in this?”
“Didn’t give me any details. Just said she was with him when he called about the profiler.”
“At four in the morning?” Castello gave him a pointed look. “You think he finally got the nerve to ask her out?”
Jake shrugged. “Didn’t tell me why they were together when they found the body. Almost didn’t mention it at all.”
“Abby know?”
“Don’t think so. She and Luke are still out west doing that deep corporate forensic audit for our tech company client.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s just after six there. My phone hasn’t rung, so I’m assuming Brianna didn’t call her or I’d have heard by now. Jeffers didn’t tell me to share the info, so I’m not going to be the one to call my sister-in-law and tell her that her best friend is in danger, again.”
“How you want to handle this, then?” Frank asked.
“I gave Jeffers my guy’s name and they set up a time to talk later this morning. I also asked Carson to CC me into any emails they share, as well as his profile of the unsub.”
“Because you think Jeffers may be in over his head?”
Jake shook his head. “No. He’s a damn good detective. Bu
t if this is a serial killer, then Jeffers may call for help. If that happens, I’d like to hit the ground running, not playing catch-up. Especially if Brianna is in danger again.”
“Because she’s family,” Castello said.
Jake nodded. “The moment Abby married Luke, Brianna, the friend she considers a sister, became an Edgars.” It’s just what the family did.
11
Brianna put her arms around Paula and hugged her as she cried. She knew Aaron told her about Art’s death as gently as he could, but she wished they could’ve waited until her friend’s medical condition had improved. Maybe a day or two.
But, if Aaron was right, and Art was part of some sick killer’s game, more people might be in jeopardy, so talking with Paula couldn’t wait.
She glanced Aaron’s way. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes spoke of the sadness he felt at delivering such horrible news. He didn’t like doing the job any more than she did, and this was her first time. As a detective, he’d done this with devastated families and friends more than once.
After a few minutes Paula’s tears slowed, she gulped in some air and released her hold on Brianna. She coughed hard and Brianna handed her some tissues to spit into.
“The therapist…said, getting this…crap out of…my lungs was…a good sign,” she said, wheezing more than she had been before crying.
Remembering the nurse last night had told Paula to stay hydrated to help break up the phlegm, Brianna handed her the big cup of water so she could drink. She patted Paula’s leg, while Stanley snuggled deeper into the younger woman’s lap, both trying to give her comfort. Aaron sat quietly. Brianna knew he wanted to question Paula about Art and the places she’d searched for him, but he was also giving her friend time to come to terms with what he’d already told her about Art’s death. She just prayed Paula didn’t ask him for details. No one should hear that about someone they loved.
Finally, Paula wiped her eyes, seemed to be breathing easier again and looked to Aaron. “How was he killed?”
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