Every Dark Corner (The Cincinnati Series Book 3)

by Karen Rose

  ‘Oh.’ Hope leaned against the table, peering at his laptop screen. ‘So it’s like you dropped her off and she went shopping.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ he said, impressed with her logic. ‘I was trying to remember if the woman I drove home was ever carrying any bags from these stores.’

  Hope glanced up at him. ‘Was she your girlfriend?’

  ‘Hope!’ Bailey shook her head. ‘Sit. Now.’

  Decker had already shuddered his revulsion. ‘It’s okay, Mom. Again, the question is not a bad one. No, Hope, she was definitely not my girlfriend. She was a criminal. And I was working undercover to get information.’

  Hope’s eyes widened almost comically. ‘Really? That’s what I want to do. Be a cop like my Uncle Daniel and Uncle Luke. But I wanna go undercover too.’

  Bailey huffed. ‘You said you wanted to be a doctor like Dani.’

  Hope shrugged. ‘That would be fun too.’

  Decker bit his lip, holding back a laugh. ‘If it’s okay, Mama, I’d like to talk to Hope a little more. My brain needs a break. Can she stay?’

  Hope looked at him with thankful adoration and Bailey sighed heavily. ‘If you really want her to. She can be a little precocious.’

  Hope frowned. ‘I don’t know that one.’

  ‘It means advanced for your age,’ Decker confided. ‘It’s usually what parents and teachers say when a kid is smart in intelligence but a little bit of a smartass – I mean smart alec – too.’

  Hope snickered. ‘My uncles say smartass. It’s okay.’

  ‘Well, not really,’ Decker said. ‘At least not from me, because you don’t know me yet.’

  Hope shrugged and leaned in to see the screen again. ‘I think we’ve been here.’

  Bailey stepped behind them to look over Decker’s shoulder. ‘I don’t think so, baby. I don’t recognize that street. I recognize the street name, though. That’s Hyde Park.’

  ‘Actually, it’s Oakley,’ Decker said. ‘Next to but less expensive than Hyde Park.’

  ‘How long were you undercover?’ Bailey asked, surprised.

  ‘Three years, why?’

  ‘Because I thought you were new in town, but you know the neighborhoods better than I do and I’ve been here five years.’

  ‘I guess I feel new. When you’re undercover, you’re not really a part of anything. You just pretend to be, but you live on the edges.’

  ‘Always on the outside, looking in,’ Bailey murmured. ‘Sounds a bit lonely.’

  ‘It was,’ he admitted, suspecting where Hope’s mama was taking this conversation. ‘You can’t make real friends because you’re surrounded by really bad guys. And if you have friends in the real world, you can’t even say hi to them because you might blow your cover.’

  Hope looked uncertain. ‘Maybe a doctor would be better than an undercover cop.’

  ‘A lot better,’ Bailey said fervently. ‘Anyway, we don’t live anywhere near that street on the computer screen, and those shops are still more expensive than we can afford. I’m sure we’ve never been there, Hope.’

  ‘Oh, not me and you, Mama. Me and Dad. We went to one of the stores right there for your bir—’ She pursed her lips again, her expression becoming glum.

  ‘Birds?’ Decker asked, trying to provide her with a distraction.

  ‘I don’t have birds,’ Bailey said, ruffling Hope’s hair. ‘Next time you and Dad go shopping for my birthday present, tell him I’d like one. It should be yellow, okay? I like yellow.’

  ‘Okay, Mama.’ Hope mouthed a relieved thank you to Decker, then squinted at the screen again. ‘We passed by all these places, though, and then we got an ice cream cone here. Because it was hella hot.’

  Bailey opened her mouth to reprimand her daughter, then sighed, shaking her head. ‘I put the chicken in the oven to warm. When the timer dings, I’ll get it out. Don’t touch it, Hope. You’ll burn your fingers. And do not bother Agent Davenport.’

  She left the kitchen and Hope made an angry face. ‘She thinks I’m a baby.’

  ‘She loves you a lot,’ Decker corrected quietly. ‘That makes you a very lucky girl. My mama didn’t love me or my sister like that. You should count your blessings, honey.’

  Hope’s expression changed again, becoming sweetly compassionate. ‘I’m sorry, Agent Davenport.’

  ‘You can call me Decker if you want.’

  ‘No, I’m not allowed to call grownups by their first names. Maybe Mr Decker?’

  ‘That works. Tell me about the ice cream.’ Because that was ringing a bell in his mind.

  He listened as she chattered about ice cream and the flavors she and her dad had tried and the cones they’d finally bought and eaten while they walked to the . . . sign shop? ‘Wait,’ he said, because she’d whispered the word. ‘You and your dad went to a sign shop?’

  ‘No,’ she whispered louder, scowling at him. ‘A consignment shop. Don’t say it so loud. Mama will hear!’

  ‘Oh,’ he whispered back. ‘So that was the birthday present shop?’

  She nodded. ‘Dad got Mama a pair of glass lamps that go on the wall. Antiques. Mama loves old stuff, but only in her sewing room. She says the rest of the house should be lived in. That Dad shouldn’t have to worry about where he puts his feet or that he’ll knock something over and break it. Dad is kind of big. Like you. Not fat,’ she said hastily. ‘Neither of you are fat. And I’m sure you’re not clumsy. I’m sure you wouldn’t break anything!’

  Decker’s chest shook as he laughed silently. ‘Thank you. I am a little clumsy, but thanks for saying I’m not fat, because that means I can eat fried chicken and M&Ms and brownies and not worry. At least for now.’

  Hope raised a brow. ‘I saw a pan in the sink with brownie crumbs in it. Are there any left?’

  ‘Nope. Sorry, kid. But I’ll ask Kate to make some more. Tell me about the antique store.’ Because while he was pretty sure that Alice had gone into the ice cream shop a time or two, it was a popular enough place that she might not be remembered, and at this point he couldn’t pinpoint an exact day he’d taken her there, so asking for a specific surveillance video wasn’t possible. An antique store, though . . .

  There was a definite memory pinging around in his mind.

  ‘They sell old stuff,’ Hope said with a shrug. ‘A lot of fancy side tables and stuff from Europe. Dad bought the lamps there because they matched one that Mama already had, from her mama. Her mama died before I was born, so I never met her,’ she ended sadly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I never knew any of my grandparents, but I had foster parents and one of them still had a mama living. For a little while anyway. She died when I was in high school.’

  ‘Did she let you call her Grandma?’

  Decker smiled at the sweet question. ‘She did. And she was awesome.’

  ‘Good. What happened to your foster mom and dad?’

  ‘They died when I was in the army. They were older, but it was still too soon to lose them. They were awesome, too.’

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Hope said gravely, and he wondered who she’d heard say those words. Her ex-chaplain dad maybe? Or her two cop uncles? But he didn’t ask and a second later she patted his hand and turned back to the screen. ‘Did the lady you’re looking for go to any of these stores?’

  ‘The ice cream store and maybe the antique store, too. I wonder if they do repairs.’

  ‘They do. I saw the sign on the wall. They fix glass and restore paintings and clean antique furniture. Because if you don’t do it right, you could lose all the value. I watch Antiques Roadshow,’ she added. ‘Religiously.’

  ‘Religiously, huh? Well I do too.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, during which Hope didn’t make a sound, even to breathe. He focused on his memory of Alice, o
f driving her home. Of her snappishness and bad manners. Of how she’d treated him like a stupid jock. And of the one time he’d stopped in front of that same antique shop and she’d gotten out of the car with a clock in her hands. If they fix clocks, then we might have a lead.

  He googled the shop and placed a call, crossing his fingers. Hope crossed hers too, both hands. ‘Hello,’ he said when the shop owner answered. ‘This is Special Agent Davenport with the FBI, and I’m trying to track down a person of interest who might have shopped in your store.’

  There was a moment of startled silence on the other end. ‘Oh. Of course,’ the woman said. ‘I’m happy to cooperate. But first give me your badge number. I’d like to check your identity before I answer any questions.’

  Decker was a little annoyed at the delay, but mostly impressed at the owner’s caution. ‘Of course.’ He recited his badge number. ‘The person I’m looking for is named Alice Newman. She would have been about five-seven, thin, blonde. She brought in a clock to be fixed.’

  ‘If you can give me a date, that would help me search more quickly,’ she said politely.

  ‘I don’t have a specific date, I’m sorry.’ It had been cold, he remembered that. ‘Perhaps late February or early March of this year?’

  ‘That will help me considerably. Let me check your badge number with the local authorities, then I’ll search. Should I call you back at the number on my caller ID?’

  ‘Yes, please. And when you call the Cincinnati Field Office, ask for Special Agent in Charge Zimmerman. He’s my boss.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll do that right now, and hopefully I’ll have the information you need.’

  Decker hung up and sighed. ‘She’s checking me out.’

  ‘That’s smart of her,’ Hope said. ‘My uncles say to never trust anyone who calls you on the phone unless you know them.’

  ‘Your uncles sound very smart, too.’

  ‘Oh they are. They work for the GBI. I guess that’s almost like the FBI. Just one letter off.’ She began to clear away her books, leaving him to puzzle that one out.

  ‘Oh. Georgia Bureau of Investigation,’ he said.

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded. ‘We lived in Atlanta. Mama and me. And then she met my dad. And then they got married and we moved here and lived with Aunt Meredith for a while. Now we have our own house and I have my own room.’

  ‘I see. The GBI is state law enforcement. FBI is federal. We sometimes work with the state guys. Maybe someday I’ll meet your uncles.’

  ‘Maybe. They come up for holidays. If you don’t have any family because they all died, you can have Thanksgiving and Christmas with us. My mama is a good cook.’ The offer was made without an ounce of guile, and Decker found that his eyes were stinging.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, his voice more hoarse than he’d intended.

  The child looked up and met his eyes, and in hers he saw understanding and compassion. ‘The timer’s about to ring, so you should tidy your space. You need room for your plate.’

  ‘I will. Thank you, Hope. You’ve helped me a great deal in my search.’ The truth was, he would have gotten there on his own, but listening to her talk had helped jog his memory. And her offer of a shared meal on a lonely holiday . . . that was gold. Bright, shiny, and unblemished.

  Her smile was brighter still. ‘You’re welcome, Mr Decker. I like to help people.’

  Cincinnati, Ohio,

  Friday 14 August, 1.15 P.M.

  He’d been waiting for nearly an hour, parked behind the trees near the end of his driveway. Mallory had gotten a late start for the store, so he’d sat twiddling his thumbs, watching for her to emerge, and he was getting cranky. It was damn hot in his car, even with his A/C running non-stop. Finally he heard the smooth roar of her engine seconds before she pulled out of the driveway and started for the store.

  He hit a button on his phone, dialing Gemma. ‘Hi, it’s me. Mallory should be on her way to the store. I wanted to remind you about talking to her.’

  ‘I didn’t forget. Where are you going? You sound like you’re in the car.’

  ‘I’m going to get some . . . personal items for Roxy,’ he lied.

  ‘So you’re going to the liquor store,’ Gemma said flatly. ‘God, Brandon. The woman is a drunk. Toss her out on her ass.’

  Roxy might be a drunk, but you’re a hypocritical cokehead, Gemma. ‘No, I’m going to the medical supply store. Roxy can’t get out of bed any longer. I’m going to get some bedpans.’ Actually, they were way past needing bedpans. He should catheterize her.

  ‘God, Brandon,’ Gemma whined. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to be changing bedpans.’

  ‘Have I ever asked you to do anything for Roxy?’

  ‘No,’ came her fractious reply. ‘Anyway, I thought you were sick.’

  He blinked, surprised. His sisters had compared notes about him. ‘I took an antihistamine so I can breathe, but I’m still not ready to tend patients.’ His phone beeped in his ear. ‘I’m getting another call. I gotta go.’ He hung up on Gemma and accepted the next call without looking at the caller ID. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Good morning, Professor,’ Rawlings said coldly.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Rawlings,’ he said cheerfully, thinking that the guard did not sound happy. He guessed a mud facial was not Rawlings’s cuppa. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Lighter weight-wise than I should be. I seem to be missing the product you were supposed to deliver last night.’

  What the hell was Rawlings trying to pull? ‘I left it on the driver’s seat of your car,’ he said, matching the guard’s cold tone.

  ‘Then someone lifted it after you left me face down in the fucking mud. So you’ll be replacing it. With interest. Double it.’

  Like hell. I’ll do no such thing. ‘I’m not responsible for the product after I’ve made my delivery, Mr Rawlings.’

  ‘Then maybe this will help you reconsider. I’ve just had a long, long talk with Special Agent Deacon Novak. He grilled me for over an hour, and I have to tell you he is one creepy fucker.’

  He imagined that Rawlings was thinking this would make him nervous. ‘He is a creepy fucker,’ he agreed mildly.

  ‘I didn’t give you up. Yet. I can give you up in a way that doesn’t reflect on me whatsoever. My record’s clean. And you’re a drug dealer who’s connected to a lot of dead people.’

  ‘I’m a middleman who facilitates the schemes of others,’ he maintained levelly.

  ‘Hm. So that’s why Agent Novak was drilling me about the Professor? Had I ever heard of him? Did I know him?’

  Fuck. Panic skittered down his spine, and that made him angry as hell. He drew a calming breath that he’d intended to be silent, but Rawlings must have heard because he chuckled like the fucking bastard he was. ‘It was very hard to be blasé,’ he mocked. ‘It might be even harder the next time. So be smart, Professor. Be smart.’

  He gritted his teeth at the guard’s condescending tone, but didn’t rise to the bait. Because I am very smart. Far more so than you. He’d always been prepared to jettison the Professor if the authorities ever got too close, and he had the perfect ace in the hole – his brother-in-law would make sure that whatever alibi he presented was rock solid. He’d planned ahead.

  But the best tool in his arsenal was his own self. I have no one whose death will utterly destroy me. Whereas you do.

  He made his voice tremble, just a touch. ‘I’ll . . . I’ll need to think about this.’

  ‘You do that,’ Rawlings drawled, pleased. ‘And don’t forget my little list. It’s still in play. Anything happens to me, my record of favors goes public.’ The guard ended the call, seeming quite comfortable in the belief that he had the upper hand in their little game.

  He turned into the first parking lot he came to and watched Mallory’s vehicle disappear around the c
urve. Then he turned around and headed for home.

  Rawlings had quite a bit to learn about the game’s rules. And its penalties.

  Eighteen

  Cincinnati, Ohio,

  Friday 14 August, 1.45 P.M.

  Decker’s phone buzzed with an incoming call from Agent Triplett as he cleaned the last of the shrimp and grits off his plate. He and Hope had already demolished what had been left of the fried chicken. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and hit ACCEPT.

  ‘Decker here. What’s up, Trip?’

  ‘I’m on duty downstairs today. You have a visitor coming up. That Diesel Kennedy guy from yesterday. He’s alone this time, though.’

  ‘Thanks. Hey, are you going out for lunch again today?’

  Trip chuckled. ‘I can. What do you want?’

  ‘More of that barbecue from yesterday and anything else they have on the menu. I’ll pay you back, cross my heart.’ Decker eyed Hope. ‘And maybe a few desserts, too. Anything they got. One of each.’

  Hope grinned at him and Decker winked back.

  ‘Holy cow, man,’ Trip said. ‘Your appetite came back like a hurricane.’

  ‘Well, I was in a coma for a week, so I have an excuse. Besides, I have some help today. My little assistant, Hope. She likes sweets, but that’s our secret.’

  ‘Mum’s the word,’ Trip promised. ‘I’ll make a run when I get my break.’

  ‘Thanks. Gotta go. Doorbell’s ringing.’ He hung up and got up, stretching his back while Hope’s eyes grew huge.

  ‘You’re a lot taller than my dad. I didn’t know because you were sitting down.’

  ‘Maybe you can introduce me to him. He sounds nice.’

  Dani had graduated him from a walker to a cane when he’d come back from the morning meeting, and he used it now to hobble to the door. To his amusement, Hope stayed glued to his side, holding her little hands out like she’d steady him if he started to fall.

  Well, mostly amusement. He had to admit that the sight made his eyes sting again. Just a bit. ‘If I fall, honey, I’ll squash you like a tree squashing a bug.’