by L. A. Fiore
He said nothing, just watched me. I smiled then climbed into the car. He was standing there, his hands in his pockets, his focus on me. Our gazes locked when he said, “Good night, Miss Donahue.”
The door closed, but the glass was tinted. I didn’t want to look away, so I didn’t. I’d have really liked a few more hours, hell, days, weeks, months to get to know the man, under the stoic image, but that was as likely to happen as Bridge Dubois becoming my new best friend.
Levy folded himself behind the wheel. I gave him my address, keeping my eyes on Kade until we pulled away. I even looked back, and he was still there. I didn’t settle back on the seat until Kade was out of sight. Despite how abruptly the evening had ended, it had been amazing. I watched as the scenery changed, my smiling face reflecting back at me.
Tom and Grace James tried hard to control their tears, but they weren’t successful. I’d brought in a box of tissues and some coffee. The interview was taking longer than we planned, but Zac and I didn’t push them because no parent should go through what they were.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. James said. Wiping at his eyes.
“Take your time,” Zac said softly.
“No. You need to find the man who did this.” Right before our eyes, we watched strength infuse him, tapping into his reserve for his daughter. I was having trouble holding back my own tears because the James family reminded me of my own. Samantha was an only child, was conceived later in life. She’d been a decade younger than me, and now, she was gone. We’d find out who did this.
“Samantha had been with Milton for about a year. She was initially covering a few local businesses, but Milton said she had the personality and the drive to move into one-on-one representation. He still had a few clients from back in the day. He was taking it slow, giving Samantha a client at a time. She’d been representing Desiree for four months, and Milton was right. Samantha was a perfect fit. And she loved it.” His voice broke with that last part.
When we went through Samantha’s phone, she had quite a few correspondences with a man we had trouble locating. “Do you know Terence Baker?”
“He was an acquaintance of Samantha’s,” Mrs. James said. “They met in a chat room or something. Common interests. He works in public relations, too.”
“Did you know that Samantha was planning on interviewing for a position that would have kept her in New York?” Zac asked.
Both of their faces lit up before they fell. “No, but she would have loved that,” Mrs. James said on a sob. She pulled it together and added, “We could tell when we spoke with her how much she loved Manhattan.”
“Do you know Frank Harris?” Zac asked.
“No.” Mr. James’ expression shifted to fury. “Is he—”
“No. We’re just linking all the pieces,” Zac said, cutting him off.
“When can we take our daughter home?” Mr. James asked.
“I’ll walk you down to Julia. You can make the arrangements,” Zac offered.
“Please keep us in the loop,” Mrs. James whispered.
“Absolutely.”
“We’ve got nothing,” Zac said, as he paced behind his desk. “We’ve got no suspect, no motive.” Zac stopped moving and pulled a hand through his hair.
“We’re missing something,” I said, flipping through our file.
“You think so, too,” Zac said, yanking out his chair and dropping down into it.
“It’s her cause of death. Methodical. A random attack wouldn’t have been so precise. She hadn’t been unlucky; she was the target.” I leaned back in my chair and met Zac’s gaze. “But why?”
“No fucking clue.” He reached for his coffee. “So I heard something earlier.”
I knew what was coming because nothing ever went unnoticed in this city.
“We ran into each other.”
“I’ve never run into him,” Zac said, taking a long drink of his coffee. “Not once. And if memory serves, you’ve never run into him before either. Funny, how on the day we visit him, during a murder investigation, you run into him.”
The thought had crossed my mind. I wouldn’t be much of a cop if it hadn’t, but my gut told me Kade Wakefield had nothing to hide. Well, he had a lot to hide, but not in regards to Samantha James’ murder.
“He’s not involved,” I said.
“Doesn’t look like it, but it’s a hell of a coincidence, and you know me and coincidences.”
“He didn’t have to see us, he didn’t have to point us to his assistant, but more to the point, he’s smart…building the empire he has, he has to be. And he reads people well; you noticed that I’m sure. So him running into me, he’d know how that would look. He wouldn’t make such a mistake.”
“All valid points. Still.”
I glanced at my watch. “We gotta go,” I said, standing and reaching for my jacket.
“Where are we going?”
I flashed him a smile. “We’ve got ten minutes with Desiree McKenzie.”
Zac was out of his chair. “How the hell did you manage that?”
“It was easier than you’d think. I called her. Her assistant fit us in.”
“Nice job, Molly.”
“I have my moments. Not sure we’ll get anything from her, but maybe she can tell us more about Samantha.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a call in with Milton Teller for that reason,” Zac added; his steps a little hurried.
I couldn’t help the grin when I asked, “You in a rush, Zac?”
He flashed me a smile when we hit the elevator. “Desiree McKenzie.”
Another star falling from the heavens…I understood completely.
Some movie stars could pass as mere mortals, when they weren’t all dolled up for movie sets, and then there were some who stood out, no matter what. Desiree was the latter. She greeted us in yoga pants and a tee. She wasn’t wearing makeup, her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, and still, she could stop traffic. Zac was feeling a little tongue-tied by the way his normally fast-paced questions were dragging. I made sure to take notes because I suspected he was missing half of what Desiree was saying.
She wasn’t much of an actress, and I’d always thought she was a bit of an airhead based on interviews I’d seen her give, but that was all part of her image because the woman sitting with us now was articulate and thoughtful and also sad.
“Samantha had only just started representing me. We’d been together for only four months. She was good, though. On top of everything, always looking for new ways to promote me.” She sniffled and reached for a tissue. “She was trying to get me to change my image, encouraged me to think about being more than a face.”
She’d be offered more roles if she showed this part of herself to the world. Was it possible she couldn’t act because she was being something she wasn’t? I moved on from that. “Samantha was with you at the reception?” I asked.
“Yes. We didn’t leave together, though. I had an early morning, so I really only made an appearance. She was having fun, her first celebrity event. When you’re around it all the time, you forget what it’s like…the glam of it.”
“We’ve learned that she was approached about another position,” Zac offered.
Desiree’s surprise wasn’t feigned. “I didn’t know that, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Milton took me on as an unknown child actress because he and my dad are friends. He’s been moving away from the Hollywood scene. His publicists now support local politicians and businesses. His influence and foothold in Hollywood has dwindled. Samantha loves—” She looked down and corrected herself. “Loved the part of the job that Milton is moving away from, so I’m not surprised she was looking for something else. She really loved the city, the life…all of it.”
“Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt her? Did she have trouble with anyone?” I asked.
“Publicists don�
�t have an easy job, but she never mentioned anything. Milton would know better than me, though.”
“Did she have a boyfriend?” Zac asked.
“No. Her focus was her work, and she was good. She had a way about her that you couldn’t help but like. She could get her way but have you smiling as she did.” Her eyes grew bright. “She had a hell of a career ahead of her. It’s just so horrible and senseless.”
“If you think of anything…” Zac said, handing Desiree his card. “Thank you for seeing us.”
“Find whoever did this to her,” Desiree said.
Zac nodded. Her assistant appeared to see us out. Like Rothschild’s man, Joshua, she had to have been waiting at the door.
Outside her Brownstone, Zac looked back at the apartment when he said, “She’s not what I expected.” His focus lingered for a second before he started for his car.
“More than a pretty face,” I said.
We got into the car; he started it up. “We got to find the piece we’re missing.”
I knew what he was thinking because I was, too. Murder was awful, a young victim made it even worse, but when they were good, decent…it was a triple hit.
“We’ll find it.” But I wasn’t so sure we would.
Salem was curled up in my lap. It was late. I needed sleep, but my mind wouldn’t rest. I’d been thinking about Samantha’s case, but for the last hour, my thoughts were on Kade Wakefield. My blood heated just thinking about him. Untouchable and out of reach, but for a few hours, he hadn’t been. Funny how someone I’d never really thought about now lingered in the back of my mind. He had stoic down, and you couldn’t help but watch him, waiting for him to give you something. And he had, a few times, a flash in those eyes, the slightest curving of his lips. Even just hearing him say please had my pulse jumping.
He’d asked quite a few questions about me, but when I asked one about him, he ended the night. Why?
I reached for my laptop, stirring Salem who jumped off the sofa. He’d be back. That was his way of telling me he was displeased with being disturbed.
I did a search on Kade Wakefield, tons of paparazzi pictures popped up, pictures taken from wide angle lenses: Kade getting into his car, going into buildings. There weren’t many of him with women, but the women he socialized with were all celebrities.
For a person in the spotlight, there was surprisingly little on him. That was consciously done, took a lot of effort, but then he had an incentive to keep things close to the chest since, allegedly, his business dealings weren’t all above board. Were any of those relative to the case? My gut was saying no.
I shut my laptop. I could dig deeper. I had the resources, but it felt wrong to invade his privacy, particularly since I had no credible reason to dig, except curiosity, and I was curious about Kade Wakefield.
A story on the news pulled my attention. Reaching for the remote, I turned up the volume. “CyberTech will be unveiling their new bionic division, with far reaching revolutionary science.” The newscaster turned to her co-caster. “It’s like something right out of the movies.”
Salem jumped back up on the sofa and curled into me. “Bionic division? Technology catching up to fiction,” I said. “That’s pretty damn cool.”
A picture of Carmine DeLuca filled the screen. “In other news, Carmine DeLuca was seen attending an event for presidential hopeful Brian Gaines. The charismatic DeLuca, who allegedly has ties to organized crime, is putting his money behind young front-runner Brain Gaines in his run against the incumbent President Baker.”
Carmine was charismatic and loved, despite his possible link to the mob, a true New York icon. Still, if he was mob connected…“History is repeating itself, Salem. Alleged crime bosses helping get a candidate in the White House. Didn’t work out so well the last time.” I hoped that wasn’t the case, this time, because I liked Brain Gaines. The story reminded me of the function on Friday, and I bit back a moan. I didn’t get into politics, but the NYPD was hosting a fundraiser for some of the local politicians, and as a detective, I was required to be there. Fantastic.
It was unseasonably warm, so I was taking advantage and walking through the park, but first, I needed lunch. I didn’t know what it was about vendor dogs, but they were so good, with spicy mustard and relish, hard to top that.
A fancy black car caught my attention. I could admit I looked for it because despite not moving in the same circle as Kade Wakefield, I’d enjoyed the time I’d spent with him, and I sure as fuck liked looking at him. It pulled up across the street, moments before he stepped from the building. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, with a shirt and tie that matched his eyes. I still had trouble believing that I’d had dinner with him. That he had, not only saved me from a horrible date, but had bought me dinner. I wasn’t sure how the stars aligned for that to happen, but I wanted them to align again. He had said I could call him, anytime. I bit back the laugh because I wanted to call him.
His head lifted, his eyes catching mine from over the roof of his car, and I swear my legs went weak. I’d never experienced anything like it, but to say I was attracted to Kade Wakefield was an understatement. He didn’t smile or wave, I hadn’t expected him to, but getting those eyes, knowing that, on some level, he was aware of me, too, it felt good.
I was smiling when I turned to the vendor to order my lunch. I was just adding the relish when I heard, “Detective.”
I almost dropped my hot dog. Turning around, Kade Wakefield stood behind me. He’d lost the jacket and tie, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, drawing my gaze to the tan skin of his neck. I had the strongest urge to kiss him there.
“Lunch?”
That voice, I almost closed my eyes and imagined him saying a few choice things with that deep tenor, but instead, I asked, “Would you like a hot dog?”
His gaze drifted to the street vendor; he looked skeptical.
I made the decision for him. “Another dog, Bobby.”
“You know the vendor by name?”
“I make it a habit to know the people who feed me.”
“You like food.”
“I love food, and with my schedule, I’m usually dependent on others to make it for me. Learning their names is a small way for me to show I appreciate them.”
“Here you go, Molly.” I turned to Bobby, took the hot dog and gave him a five. “Keep the change.”
I handed the dog to Kade. “What’s your poison?” I asked, and gestured to the condiments.
“Usually ketchup.” The thought of him eating something as simple as a hot dog was hard to imagine, but he hadn’t always been the man he was now.
“May I suggest spicy mustard and relish?”
His brow rose slightly.
“Trust me. It’s heaven.”
To my surprise and delight, he took my suggestion, and then in unspoken agreement, we headed to the park.
I took a bite, looked over at him and waited. He took a bite, chewed, glanced over and said, “Better than ketchup.”
It was silly, such a small concession, but coming from Kade Wakefield, I couldn’t help but smile because I suspected he didn’t concede often. His focus moved to my mouth and like Pavlov’s dog, my body reacted to that look when my heart slammed into my ribs. Was it possible he wanted to taste me as badly as I wanted to taste him? Needing to change the subject, I asked the first thing that popped into my head, well, that didn’t involve us naked. “What’s your favorite meal?” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I asked questions for a living and that was the best I could come up with?
Silence followed. I glanced over; he was watching me. “Why? You going to cook for me, Detective?”
If I got him alone, food would be the last thing I’d be thinking about. His eyes grew darker, his voice rougher when he said, “Steak and potatoes. You?”
I focused on my hot dog, bite, chew…the attention to the
mechanics helped keep me from traveling down a mental path that led to us getting naked, a reaction to a man I’d never experienced so viscerally or so early. It was during the routine of chewing that I realized he’d asked me a question. I was kind of abrupt because I really liked the thought of us getting naked. “I’m on a salmon kick, love a nicely grilled piece of salmon.” I took another bite, kept myself distracted with thoughts of food and remembered the cake he bought me during our dinner. “Oh…” I glanced his way, “That spicy chocolate cake was life changing.”
His eyes showed the humor before his lips tipped up. “Life changing?”
“It changed my life.” And, in a sense, it had because, however loosely linked, he was the one to introduce me to it, the same man I was now walking through the park with, while battling the headiest attraction I’d ever experienced.
“I’ll have to let Carrie know,” he said.
It was only then it dawned. “You own Polar.” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. “Well, yes, then please tell Carrie that cake is the best cake I’ve ever tasted. And I’m a sweet loving kinda gal.”
He studied me before he said in a low drawl, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
I felt chills, from my head right down to my toes, that this man was keeping anything about me in mind.
We finished our lunch. I studied him from the corner of my eye. The man was a mogul, one of the richest men in the world, with the responsibilities to match, so did he get times like this to shake off that responsibility? “Do you get to do this often?” I asked, earning me his attention. “Doing nothing more than strolling through the park eating a hot dog.”
“No.” But I heard the weight of that word.
“Well, next time, I’ll introduce you to the gyro man on Fifth Avenue. It’s all in the spices.”
