by Kelly Wood
“I swear. I didn’t know Ben was going to do that. Ben works . . . differently.”
“But, you talked to him when we left here, didn’t you?”
“That’s two questions.” Liam released his hold on me and leaned back in his chair.
“Semantics. Plus, I don’t know if you answered the first question honestly. Here’s your chance.”
“I did seek him out to interrogate him on what happened.”
“He admitted it to you? That he was there?” I glanced at Gray, both of our faces registering our surprise.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you arrest him?”
“An order came down from higher up to drop the matter.” Liam shrugged in a ‘what was I to do’ manner.
“And you did?”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice.” This time I walked away and didn’t turn back when he called my name.
Gray was right behind me as I scurried out of the room, but I could still feel Liam’s eyes burning a hole in my back.
Chapter Forty
Gray and I headed for the “El.” I was at a loss as to what step to take next, and my foot hurt like the Dickens. I suggested a midday snack. Just something light, like a burrito. Fortunately, there was a perfect little place under the red line on Addison.
“What should our next step be?” My words come out jumbled around my mouthful of burrito, but I knew Gray would pick up what I was putting down.
“You mean your whole ‘go get ‘em plan’ revolved only around breaking into his apartment? I expected more, Nancy Drew. Knowing you, I thought we’d be interviewing his parents and grandparents by now. Just in case.” Gray winked at me, making it clear he was just giving me a hard time. Again.
“Cute.” I stuffed my face with another big bite. The truth was, I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know what I expected to find at his apartment or what I expected to happen there, but I was stuck. I’d woken up feeling ready to take on the world, but looking back, my whole plan of, “End this with Ben,” only involved breaking into his apartment.
I looked around the restaurant for inspiration. I used the term ‘restaurant’ loosely. It was really just a small, one-room square. Door, flat-top grill and counter, three small tables. Bam, done, restaurant. Kind of. Posters were tacked up on the walls offering everything from apartment finders to dog walkers, with bar specials in between. I hoped inspiration would strike quickly because it was getting harder to avoid Gray’s eyes. I chanced a glance across the table. Gray sat military straight staring at me, slowly chewing his food. Oh, and smirking. I think he found humor in everything. Usually, I found that endearing, but sometimes, like today, it could be annoying.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“Just waiting for your game plan.”
I took another bite and stared back. My poster inspiration wall hadn’t helped, but maybe I could get a confidence boost by beating Gray in a staring contest.
“You won’t win. You never do.” His gaze bored into mine.
“Oh, yeah?” I was so smooth. Zinger!
“No.”
“Why?” I took another bite, but my gaze never left his.
“Because Ben is right behind you.”
“That won’t work. I’ve got this.”
“I’m not lying. Or fibbing, as you like to call it.”
“Fibbing is for the small stuff that doesn’t count as a lie. Ben being behind me is a huge lie.” I leaned forward, widening my eyes. Gray mirrored my move. “Plus, you’d never just sit there if he was behind me. What if he did something?”
“He knows better than to try something. He knows I could take him in a fight,” Gray said.
If I hadn’t been looking into Gray’s eyes so intensely, I would’ve missed it. When he said, he could take him one-on-one something flashed in his eyes. Pleasure. I think Gray would love nothing more than to have a go at Ben again.
“We have other things to discuss now,” Ben said.
Goosebumps ran up my arms, and my neck twitched from the whiplash as I spun around.
“Told ya, I win. Join us.” Gray reached next to him and pulled out a chair. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Yesterday Ben was breaking the window out of my car. Today, he’s having lunch with us. Gray had transformed in front of my eyes. He looked the same, yet different, harder. His facial expression took on a stony look, his eyes were masked, and his voice deepened. I was sitting in front of a stranger. Where had my fun-loving, always-ready-for-a-joke boyfriend gone?
“I think you have something to say to Regan, also,” Gray said.
I faced Ben. Nausea crept up on me as my world tilted. Something wasn’t right. I just knew it. Something other than Anya, something other than the weird invoicing, just . . . something.
“I’m sorry, Regan. I never would’ve actually hurt you. There were other motives behind my actions.” He reached out to touch my hand, but before I could pull mine back, Gray stopped him. Gray’s knuckles were white with the effort. The grip must have felt bone-crushing, but Ben never blinked. He seemed almost relaxed compared to Gray. Gray reminded me of a jungle cat ready to pounce.
“Excuse me?” I needed more time to adjust. My mind was just not adding up what was really going on.
“I can’t explain now, but it was just an act. You weren’t supposed to be there. No one was.”
“So, that makes it okay? You scared me half to death.”
“For the record, you hit me first. I tried to just talk to you.”
“If that’s all you really wanted, then why did you chase me down the stairs and then break my window? You’re paying for that, by the way.” I gave him my sternest look fearing I fell short of threatening.
“I will,” Ben said. He managed to look contrite.
“He won’t. We don’t need his help,” Gray said. I rolled my eyes at him.
“You don’t? Are you sure?” Ben asked.
“You willing to tell us who you are working for and why?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then Gray is right. We don’t need your help.” I started to slide out of the booth.
“Just let me help.”
“Who killed Anya?” I asked, pausing in my escape.
“I don’t know.”
“Why was she killed?”
“I’m unsure.”
“You don’t know who did it. You don’t know why. What is your end goal in this?”
“Don’t you know yet, Regan?” Gray asked.
“I guess not,” I said.
“His goal is to protect his client. That is his only goal. He doesn’t care if the mystery is ever solved. He doesn’t care if it is. As long as his client isn’t incriminated in any way.”
I absorbed what Gray said. I hadn’t factored in Ben’s ultimate goal at all. To me, everyone should want the murder solved. It was part of my black-and-white world. Crimes got solved. Criminals got punished. Bad people got caught.
“You won’t tell who your client is or what he is hiding, but will you tell us the why?” I asked.
“The why is always the same, Regan. To protect someone they love more.”
“More than what?”
“More than themselves,” Ben said.
“Did you lock me in the warehouse room?”
“Yes.”
“Did you throw a snake at me? Which was worse than being locked in the storage room.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t tell me about your client’s motives, so appease me and tell me yours.”
“They are the same as the clients.”
Chapter Forty-One
They are the same as the clients. The words echoed in my ear. His clients did it for love. Or, so they said. I had yet to believe that. The clients’ motives might’ve been for love, but I thought it was more for love of themselves. Love of the power their positions brought. The scandals could, if exposed, change their coveted positions. Of course, this w
as only three semesters of Psychology speaking.
“Let’s move on,” I said.
“I can help you, but you may not like what you find,” Ben said.
“How can you help?”
“Come with me.” He didn’t wait for a response from Gray or me. He got up and walked toward the door. Gray and I made eye contact and had a silent conversation. He lifted one eyebrow in question. To answer, I got up and followed Ben.
The three of us ended up in an Uber to Navy Pier. I should’ve been leery around Ben. Gray and I both should have. I wasn’t because Gray was with me. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would not let Ben hurt me. Even knowing he had what was probably the murder weapon in his possession. I planned to ask him about it, but I had an idea of the reason why. To protect his client. I just didn’t know how it had come to be in his possession.
Ben led us to an outdoor seating area of one of the restaurants on the Pier. Even with the tourist season not kicking off officially for another month, the place had a good crowd. He looked around before choosing a table in the corner by the railing separating the restaurant from the walkway.
“You are spilling the beans. All of them. The whole can, got it?” I said as I pulled a chair out for myself. Gray took the back from me to push it in while I sat down.
“I will.” Ben put his hands up in a “you caught me” way. “You will find this enlightening. I promise.”
“Let’s get on with this. Why are we here?” I asked.
“You’ll find out in a minute. Here, choose a drink.” He handed me a menu from the center of the table.
“I’m not here to have a drink. We’re not friends out for a social afternoon.”
“Humor me. We can’t just sit here without ordering. That will be more suspicious.”
“Why did you lock us in the storage unit? What was the point?” I hoped the switch in subjects would throw him off balance. Maybe jar a real answer out of him.
“To protect you,” Ben said.
“To protect me, to protect me?!” Half rising out of my chair, Ben flinched with the heat of my question. I knew people were probably starting to stare, but I didn’t care. I was tired of being played with and just wanted answers. This had been a whole cat-and-mouse game from the start.
“Let’s start at the beginning. I know you. I knew you would start asking questions about Anya. So, I kept your focus on other things so I could do what I was paid to do. It also helped me. I needed time without worrying about you.”
“It’s not your job to worry about her,” Gray said.
“And you were failing. You should’ve gotten her to leave Chicago.” Ben angrily pointed his finger at Gray.
“I tried. You know Regan, as you say. She has a stake in this, too. Peter and Anais are like family to her,” Gray countered.
“Why do you have the murder weapon if you aren’t actually the murderer?” I asked. I was tired of their bickering.
“I took it from the murder scene.” Ben’s face registered surprise and then anger. His hand moved over, his finger now pointing at me to emphasize the accusation. “How do you know I have it?”
That shut me up. I had suspected Ben must’ve gotten it from the scene, but I hadn’t expected him to admit it so freely. And, I hadn’t expected him to turn the accusations back to me. I ignored his question and asked some of my own.
“The police were right? You were there? I thought that whole thing was a ruse?” I asked.
“I was there. After. I took the murder weapon, hoping to cause the murderer obvious distress, helping me to pinpoint him or her.”
“Did it work?”
“No.” Ben laughed. “The police never released the information that they didn’t know what the murder weapon was.” He shrugged his shoulders, like it was no big deal.
“It was you who messed with the video system outside the door?” I asked, but I knew the answer already. He nodded his head.
“I made sure not to erase the section that showed me leaving, though.”
“How convenient for you. Why did you go to the pub that late at night?” I asked.
“I was supposed to meet Anya there. She had promised to help me with my client’s dilemma. She was going to let me see the computers. When she didn’t answer, I let myself in.”
“The camera doesn’t show that you went in.”
“Because I didn’t want the camera to show it.” He shrugged again. My good angel and curious cat argued. I wanted to know the ins and outs of everything that had happened, but I also wanted to know how he fixed the cameras. That would be a most useful skill.
“You didn’t see the killer when you went in? The police thought the time frame was around the time you were at the back door.”
“I didn’t go in right then. I needed to disable the security system. I was able to get in around five thirty in the morning. I still hadn’t heard from Anya. That’s when I found her and took the pen,” Ben said.
“Did you see Peter?” I asked.
“He almost caught me. I triggered the alarm when I went in. I was sloppy.”
That answered my question of why Peter was at the restaurant so early the next morning. If the alarm had been set off then, the company would’ve called Peter.
“If it gives you any peace of mind, based on Peter’s reaction to finding her, he didn’t kill her. He would’ve had no reason to fake his shock and dismay. He didn’t know anyone was watching.”
In all honesty, I had never considered Peter a suspect for killing Anya. I didn’t know why. It would’ve made sense to, but I knew he was innocent, even when the police were questioning him.
“One more question. Why did you flip the table? What was the point?” I asked.
“I needed an escape. Anais was pointing some serious doubt in my direction. I couldn’t waste time answering Liam’s questions. The table escapade gave me enough of a distraction to get out.”
“There’s no way it could’ve been someone at the table that night. Jax doesn’t work at the pub any longer. Peter, you’ve already eliminated. Seth doesn’t have the guts. Liam didn’t know Anya. We weren’t even in the country,” I said pointing my finger at Gray and me.
“It just leaves . . .” Ben trailed off.
“Anais is dying. She doesn’t have the strength needed to overpower a two-year-old.”
“Maybe. Adrenaline does funny things to a body.” I dismissed the idea but asked the next question anyway. “What would be her motive?”
“That’s why we are here.” Ben signaled the waitress to the table.
“Hey, Ben. Sorry about your wait. May I get you something to drink?” A pretty blonde walked over and stood next to our table. Some of the restaurants here in the city hired models as servers and bartenders to bring in crowds, and this girl could definitely be one of them.
“Sandy! You have great timing. These are the friends I told you about.” Sandy’s eyes showed her shock. She looked like a deer caught in headlights but quickly recovered when Ben spoke.
“You can trust them. I promise.” Ben reached out and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze.
“You want to know about my other job, right?” Sandy asked. She looked around to make sure no one was listening.
“Um, sure.” The confusion must’ve been evident because she continued without my prompting.
“I used to do private parties for Patrick O’Kelly’s.” She stared straight into my eyes, prompting me to “get it.”
“Oh, of course. I see. I would actually love any information you could tell us,” I said, leaning forward in my seat.
“Why do you want to know about it? I don’t want to get into trouble or anything. I only worked there a short time.” Sandy kept looking around and over her shoulders.
“I was a friend of Anya’s. I just want to know what happened to her.” I reached out to take her hand. I used the term “friend” loosely, but we did know each other.
“You don’t have to tell us anything personal. W
e just want to know how it worked.” Gray pulled out the chair next him as he spoke, creating a warm invitation like we were all old friends.
“Okay. Just let me get someone to cover my tables for a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” Sandy returned a few minutes later and settled into the chair next to Gray’s.
“I met Anya first. At a bar in Wrigley. She offered me a job serving at O’Kelly’s. It was nice. I always heard the other girls talk about the money they made, but I wasn’t approached until later.”
“About sleeping with men for money, you mean? Why do you think they waited?” I asked. I was shooting blind. I asked about the sex angle because money laundering couldn’t fit any longer. That would have to be kept under tighter wraps since not as many players would’ve been involved.
“Looking back, I realize they had to wait for me to really need money. You know what I mean?”
“I do. They had to wait for you to feel desperate. Desperate enough to do something that morally you wouldn’t normally consider,” Gray said.
I glanced over at him. The comment could’ve come from trying to create a bond with Sandy. To help her relax, but it had a ring of truth to it. Like he knew the feeling himself, firsthand.
“You do?” Her eyes held Gray’s.
“I do. You can’t judge yourself for your actions when you were manipulated by them. Understand? So, stop thinking and worrying about it.” He smiled at her, causing her to visibly relax.
“Thank you. I was having trouble making rent and my student loan payments. Plus, I had gotten myself into too much credit card debt while in school. I needed money. I needed the creditors to stop calling. Anya heard me talking about it one day and called me into the office. She told me she could help me. She made it sound fun and exciting. She made it seem easy.”
“How long did you work for them?” I asked.
“Only six months. I paid off all of my debt and socked the rest into savings. I tried to look at it as a short-term job. I just shut my mind off to what I was actually doing.”
“How was Peter involved?”
“Peter? He wasn’t. Everything went through Anya. I got the impression that he didn’t know what the jobs really were, or if he did, he never let on to me. I don’t think Anya worked alone, though.”
