by Elise Noble
“That was years ago.”
Was I ever going to finish a sentence?
“Her grandma still can’t sleep at night from wondering what—”
“Barb Simms thinks she got beamed up by little green men. You want my two cents? Look at that pothead she hangs out with. Homer. He always looks at my Lisa funny, don’t he, hun?” She turned to the girl who’d materialised behind her, a redhead who didn’t look more than twenty. The girl nodded. “See?”
“Thank you, that’s very—”
“There, you’ve had my help. Now scoot. Some of us have got useful things to do.” She began to close the door in my face. “You’re hunting for a ghost. Waste of time.”
Click.
Was it a waste of time? Who was Homer? I hurried down the drive and dialled Alaric, feeling a tiny buzz of excitement. Was this what detective work was all about? Hours of tedium followed by a lead that might help to solve a murder?
“Everything okay?” Alaric asked.
“The lady I just spoke to, she told me about a man called Homer. Apparently, he’s a friend of Piper’s grandma, and he’s a bit, well, creepy towards her daughter.”
“Homer? Did you get a surname?”
“No, but she mentioned he smoked a lot of marijuana.”
“Okay, I’ll call… Wait. Homer? I bet that’s a nickname for Bill Simpson. Dan already ruled him out. He went drinking the night before Piper disappeared and got arrested for urinating on a cop. Took him two days to sober up enough to make bail.”
The spark I’d felt faded. “He peed on a cop?”
“Got confused, so he claimed.”
“That must’ve been some bender.” Homer made Piers look positively teetotal. “Have you found anything?”
“About Piper? No. But Kyla’s campaign put out a press release about Ridley. They claim he merely moved the bag off a chair because he wanted to sit down.”
“Really? Why would he need to hold the zipper for that? It doesn’t ring true.”
“You know that, I know that…”
“So what happens now?”
“Now things get interesting.”
“What do you mean? They’re not interesting enough already?”
“Ridley’s got to know that O’Shaughnessy had help finding those fingerprints, and if he’s smart, he’ll realise Emmy and Black’s presence at the reunion wasn’t a coincidence. Which means we’ll get front-row seats for the battle of Black versus Ridley. I may not always see eye to eye with Black, but I know who my money’s going to be on.”
“Is it too late to go back to London?”
I hadn’t signed up for a battle, and although Black had been perfectly polite, he still scared me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of the crossfire. Trust me?”
I might not have known Alaric for long, but yes, I did.
“I trust you. But don’t forget I’ll need to be in England in the middle of next month for my sister’s wedding. Actually, maybe getting caught in the crossfire wouldn’t be so bad—if I were dead, I’d have a valid excuse for declining the invite.”
“You can’t miss your sister’s wedding.”
“Just wishful thinking, I guess. Honestly, I could do without another dose of Piers, and he’s bound to be there.”
“Need a date?”
Was Alaric offering? Last time he’d volunteered as my plus-one, things had got rather…heated. Our relationship, such as it was, had changed completely since then, but my insides still clenched from thinking about it.
“Is that a good idea?”
His voice got lower. Huskier. Be dry my soaking knickers. “I promise I’ll keep my fingers to myself this time.”
I swallowed hard and nearly told him not to bother, then quickly remembered Gemma’s revelation. Alaric liked men. He also happened to be an outrageous flirt who sometimes got carried away, but on balance, I’d rather deal with Alaric and my raging libido than horny groomsmen or that weird friend of my sister’s fiancé who kept stroking my arm.
“In that case, I’ll take you up on the offer. But if—when—Piers does show his face, you’ll get bonus points for keeping your hand on my bottom.”
I heard the smile in Alaric’s voice. “I think I can manage that. Should we practise first?”
Oh, what had I done?
“No, we’ve got work to get on with. Shoo. Go ask your questions.”
Yes, the job was boring, but I was smiling as I trekked up the next driveway. Alaric was fun, a genuinely nice guy. After a decade of walking on eggshells trying to please Piers, being around a man with a sense of humour was a refreshing change. Why were the good ones always gay?
I reached the house, a tiny cottage that had seen better days, and knocked on the wood siding next to the screen door. A grey-haired lady soon shuffled towards me.
“Hi, I’m—”
“The private detective? Marcy Belmont called to say you might come by. I don’t know anything about the Simms girl, but I just baked cookies.” She waved me inside. “Would you like coffee?”
CHAPTER 22 - ALARIC
TWO DAYS, THEY’D spent canvassing, and they were no farther forward. Nobody heard anything. Nobody saw anything. Kyla had spent the afternoon cementing her reputation as a media darling by doing a meet-and-greet with veterans, notably with Ridley hovering in the background like a malevolent spirit. Rumour said that O’Shaughnessy had been scheduled to visit a school, but the principal cancelled at the last moment. So O’Shaughnessy went to an animal shelter instead. Cute puppies, y’all.
Did Alaric sound cynical? That’s because he was.
“There.” Black walked into the kitchen and tossed his phone onto the table. “It’s done. Tomorrow, the media should put two and two together and realise that Devane’s fuck buddy and the sick bastard accused of murdering an Afghan family and then burning their home to hide the evidence are one and the same man. Damn, I hate politics. What’s for dinner?”
“How’s the evidence of that coming along?” Alaric asked, and Black shot him a dirty look.
“Nothing concrete. That’s the problem when he shoots all the witnesses.”
“Playing devil’s advocate, do we know he did it?”
“Firstly, there’s circumstantial evidence. The weapons used, the method, and we know his crew was in the area. Secondly, it doesn’t matter whether he did it or not. Our job is to muddy the waters around Devane. Taking down Ridley would merely be a bonus.”
That. That second point was the difference between Blackwood and Sirius in a nutshell. Black would play dirty and do a hatchet job on a person’s reputation if it suited his cause. That wasn’t to say he had no principles whatsoever—Alaric couldn’t imagine him taking money to, say, bump off somebody’s business rival—but he didn’t mind collateral damage in the pursuit of a higher goal. In this case, Alaric happened to agree that Eric Ridley was a problem, but he liked to think his moral compass pointed in the right direction most of the time. That was why he’d left the CIA, after all—it had become clear that their ultimate destinations were on different bearings.
At Sirius, they’d vowed to seek out the truth, then let the chips fall where they may.
Emmy didn’t seem bothered by her husband’s ethics. She was sitting on the floor petting the dog, who lay on its back with its legs waving in the air.
“I ordered takeout,” she told Black. “Sushi and salad for you, pizza for all the regular people.”
“What about dessert?” Dan asked.
“Cookie dough ice cream.”
“I love you.”
Beth had been rummaging in the fridge, but when she came back with a bottle of Coke, Emmy waved her away. Emmy’s diet had always amused Alaric. She refused to touch soda, but she’d live on cheeseburgers if she could, and on a night out, she’d quite happily pour shot after vile shot down her throat.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Beth asked as she topped off Alaric’s glass.
“We’ve got a dozen h
ouses left to cover, mostly people who were out the first time we called. Then I’ll defer to Dan.”
Dan rubbed the black circles under her eyes. “Honestly? I’m not sure where to go next. If Piper’s disappearance was more recent, I’d suggest hiking with a cadaver dog, but so much time has passed… The LA office is checking locally, just in case Piper really did embark on a music career.”
“What about Kyla?” Black asked. “Where was she on the day Piper disappeared?”
“I’ve been treading softly so we don’t tip her off that we’re digging into the case, but the owner of the beauty salon remembers seeing her. Back then, she was a nail technician working for the previous owner, and Kyla and Piper were both booked in for a manicure after school that afternoon. Kyla turned up on her own. Said Piper wasn’t feeling well and she’d rebook if there were any open appointments the next day, but the lady never heard from her.”
“Was Kyla at school that day?”
“I haven’t found anyone who remembers either way.”
“How about unusual movements? Disturbed earth? Trespassers?”
“There’s nothing.”
“There’s something. We just have to find it. I’ll come with you tomorrow.”
“What am I doing tomorrow?” Emmy asked.
“Running off pizza.”
Alaric’s phone rang before Emmy could come up with a retort. Judd was calling via video link. Alaric retreated to the living room as the crunch of gravel heralded the arrival of a delivery driver.
“Can I call you back in half an hour? Dinner just arrived.”
“You’ll want to hear this.”
Judd was using his “no messing around” voice. Clipped, professional, with the merest hint of underlying excitement. Alaric forgot about the pizza.
“What? Did you find something on the incident in Afghanistan?”
“Not Afghanistan. Syria. Or more precisely, two miles off the Syrian coast.”
Judd fiddled with the camera, and it panned back to reveal a rather tense-looking Hevrin sitting beside him. What the hell was going on?
“You’ll have to explain.”
“Nada here overheard me mentioning Eric Ridley’s name on the phone.”
“Hevrin,” Alaric said out of habit.
“Pretty sure that’s not her name either, so I’m sticking with Nada.” He gestured towards her. “Over to you.”
“Eric Ridley is a monster,” she said, and the steeliness in her tone shocked Alaric.
But he quickly adopted a neutral expression. “You’ll have to start at the beginning.”
Alaric felt a presence behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know it was Emmy. She moved like a cat, and he smelled the faintest hint of whatever shampoo she’d been using this month. Let her listen. He had a feeling this would concern all of them, and it would save him from explaining everything twice.
“Eight years ago, Eric Ridley and his men shot nineteen Kurdish refugees in the Mediterranean Sea. He called them vermin. It was fun for him.”
“I’m aware of the incident. He claims the victims shot at his boat first.”
“Hara! They were unarmed civilians.”
“Hara means bullshit,” Emmy murmured, although Alaric could have guessed.
“That’s not what the investigation said.”
“The investigation was a sham. They only found what they wanted to find.”
Granted, Alaric hadn’t spent much time with Hevrin, Nada, whatever her name was, but she’d always seemed meek. Quiet. And today? Today, she sounded angry.
“How do you know that?” Alaric asked.
A shrug.
“Nada wants to help with the Ridley sitch,” Judd cut in, “but she has trust issues.”
Could anyone blame her? Alaric had seen the way she lived. At one time in her life, she’d lost everything, everything except her daughter anyway.
Alaric tried again. “We just want to make the world a better place for your little girl to grow up in, but we can’t do that alone.”
“What did Eric Ridley do now?”
“Why do you think he’s done anything else?”
“Because he’s evil. As long as he is breathing, he is dangerous, and still he is walking around free.”
“We’re trying to do something about that, but so far, we can’t find enough evidence.”
“Your people erased the evidence.”
“My people?”
“The Americans.” She tugged her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know why I am even talking to you. I shouldn’t be here.”
“What evidence? What Americans?”
Silence.
“Hevrin, we want to help. We have the same goals. I may be American by birth, but all I want to do is find the truth.”
“Your government does not want to know the truth.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They were told Eric Ridley was lying, but they were more concerned with good publicity. Photo ops, hearts and minds, American troops riding in their trucks through towns where there is nothing left—nothing—and then patting themselves on the back when they return to their base because they didn’t die that day.”
“Who told them he was lying?”
And how did they know? Who exactly was Hevrin Moradi?
Judd turned to her. “Alaric’s right. We only want to help, I swear. And none of us work for the government, not anymore. Alaric, Naz, and I used to, but we all quit for exactly the reason you said. Governments don’t always do what’s right.”
Hevrin stayed quiet for a full minute.
Finally, she spoke. “The SDF. The Syrian Democratic Forces. Their representatives told US contacts what happened, and the Americans said they were mistaken. Then the witness’s village was bombed, and I do not believe that was a coincidence.”
Now Emmy stepped forward. “What witness?”
“Who are you?” She leaned closer to the screen. “I saw you on the Bellsfield Estate. With Alaric, the night Ryland Willis fell off the South Tower, and I do not believe that was a coincidence either.”
Ah, shit.
A hundred thoughts flew through Alaric’s head. His first instinct was to deny, deny, deny. Deny everything. Although there wasn’t enough evidence for a conviction—of that he was confident—none of them wanted an investigation into the Bellsfield debacle. But to deny the truth was to insult Hevrin’s intelligence. She was smart, that much was clear. They needed to gain her trust, not prove her fears were right—that everybody lied.
“Ryland Willis came out of the same mould as Eric Ridley.”
“Yes.” Hevrin looked surprised, probably because Alaric hadn’t tried to bullshit her. “I don’t know exactly what he did to Gemma, but I saw her that night, and I see her today. It was bad. And then there are the body parts they found in the pipes… He deserved his fate.”
“He did.”
“If I’d smelled the decomposition sooner, perhaps I could have stopped him. But I had a cold for several weeks, so I couldn’t smell anything, and then when I did report the problem, the council told me it was probably a dead rat.”
Another snippet of information to add to the list—Hevrin was familiar with death. Plus her neighbour on the estate had told Alaric that Hevrin didn’t like to rock the boat in case it affected her asylum application.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“My head tells me that is true, but my heart… When I left Syria, I only wanted to live in peace, but the Bellsfield Estate is a war zone all of its own.” She turned to Judd. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I’d forgotten what it was like to sleep for an entire night.”
“Any time.” Judd shifted uncomfortably. This month had to be the first time ever that he’d had adult females stay in his house but not in his bed. It amused Alaric to see him off balance.
“Feel like telling us how you found Gemma?” Alaric asked. “We’ve been curious.”
If he could get Hevrin talking about something
unrelated to Ridley, maybe she’d feel more at ease?
“How would you do it?” she asked.
Push the question back onto him. Nice.
But Alaric humoured her. “I’d most likely ask Eunice if she knew where anyone connected with Ryland worked.”
“I did. She didn’t. But she recognised Gemma’s picture, and so I knew she was his girlfriend.”
“Picture? What picture?”
“Almost every phone has a camera now.”
Hevrin had taken photos of them that evening? It bothered Alaric that he hadn’t noticed, and judging by Emmy’s pissed-off expression, she wasn’t happy about it either.
“But don’t worry,” Hevrin continued. “I’ve deleted them now.”
Which only offered a small measure of comfort.
“That doesn’t explain how you found her at the gallery.”
“Eunice said she used to see Gemma and Ryland in gym clothes together, plus she knew he drove a blue Honda. So I found it in the car park, and on the back seat, there was a class timetable for Workout World, so I figured they might both be members. All I had to do was look up Gemma’s details on the computer there, then visit her neighbours until I found one who knew where she worked. Eunice watched Indy for a few hours.”
All she had to do. Hevrin said this as if playing detective were perfectly normal.
“How did you access the computer at the gym?”
“I stuffed tissue into a plughole in the ladies’ locker room, then turned on the tap and told the guy at the desk the sink was overflowing. He took ages to find a mop, probably because I’d moved it.”
If Alaric hadn’t been crazy over Beth, perhaps he’d have fallen a tiny bit in love with Hevrin.
Wait a second. What was he thinking? He already had Emmy in his life, not to mention her whole posse of X-chromosomed loonies. The last thing he needed was another sneaky female driving him insane.
Meanwhile, Judd was looking at Hevrin with newfound admiration.
“Do you want a job?” he asked.
Actually, that wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever had.
But Hevrin shook her head. “I’m not allowed to work until my asylum application is processed. I don’t understand it—people here, they complain that the government gives us money, yet we’re not permitted to earn it for ourselves.”
