Gordon mused on this point further. What was it that went on between Derek and Millie? Drugs? Had Tamsin sent him to Millie because she had helped her with the same problem, if not, what issue did Derek need help with? Gordon sighed. Derek was a drinker, but Gordon didn’t think he drank regularly and heavily. He showed no outward signs of drug use, but as there was some ongoing issue between Millie and Derek, Gordon considered it likely that if it had been a drug issue it might mean Millie hadn’t been successful in steering Derek away from whatever he had grown dependent upon. That didn’t quite explain what was going on in her bedroom. If, as Josh claimed, she was touching Derek’s face, was it really an act of intimacy - a prelude of sexual intent? Gordon doubted it was, but it did mean she felt a close friendship towards Derek. He didn’t believe they had gone any further however, and what Derek revealed somewhat confirmed that.
“I’ll never have a girl like Millie.” He’d said, or words to that effect.
Gordon was certain he needed to apply more pressure on Derek. If Derek wouldn’t tell him because he was certain nothing he did could be worse than what his father could inflict on him then perhaps using his father as a threat was just the leverage he needed. He’d have to catch Derek when his guard was low and when it would be easy for him to be discovered talking to him by his watch dogs. Most importantly, he needed to engage him when Derek was sober. While drinking he may not care whether they were seen together and it was reported to his father, but in the cold light of day it might be a different story. Failing that, there was one thing he could do to confirm his suspicions, which was outside the law; namely breaking into Derek’s place and giving it a careful searching.
Suddenly, there was knock on the door and it jolted Gordon out of his deliberation. Dropping the ice pack on the desk, he stood and carefully approached it, pulling his jacket back so his gun was more easily accessible - just in case it was more of Harold’s goons come to pay Gordon a visit for meeting his son without an appointment. He cautiously opened the door and was surprised to see Isabelle’s face appear in the crack.
“Hey.” She said simply and then looked at his face with concern. “What happened to you?”
“I had a run in with some people who weren’t keen on my investigation.” Gordon responded, opening the door wider. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I figured if you had to work here then perhaps there was something I could do to help. And if I couldn’t help, I thought maybe you’d like something to eat.” She told him, raising a plastic bag in her left hand and showcasing some packages of food. “Are you sure you’re okay?’
“I’ll be fine.” Gordon told her. His eyes met hers and he saw she was openly gazing at him with affection - an affection that was likely mirrored in his own eyes. His earlier resolve to put some professional distance between them evaporated as she stood before him, and he found himself stepping aside to allow her to enter. He shut the door behind her and guided her to the kitchen, where he helped her set out the take away meal she’d brought with her. He shifted the chair from in front of his desk to behind it so she could sit next to him and, once they had food and drink, they sat together and he relayed what he’d learned that day. He skipped some of the details of the other victims, disclosing only that they had been murdered after enduring the same harsh treatment Millie had prior to her death. Gordon then warned her he had no definite proof of anything, reiterating firmly once or twice that he didn’t want her to jump to any conclusions. He didn’t think she would, as she seemed very collected despite the nature of their discussion, but he felt it needed to be said. With that done, he explained why he was convinced Derek was hiding something
“And with his father's determination to stop me speaking to him, I can only presume it’s important.” Gordon concluded, his face throbbing dully in pain as he tried to eat.
“So, what are you planning on doing next?”
“I’m going to apply pressure to Derek; turn up at inopportune times and make sure his escort sees me. I’ll have some friends turn over his personal information, look into his bank records… and not subtly either.” Gordon revealed, though he omitted his plan to also break into Derek’s home and search through his belongings, deciding she didn’t need to be an accessory to any crime he might commit.
“Will that be safe?” Isabelle asked, clearly concerned.
“I’ll be fine.” Gordon assured her.
“I never imagined this could get dangerous. I honestly never even expected you to find out so much, let alone have a suspect in mind.”
“Well, I’d be hesitant to go as far as to label Derek a suspect at this point; clearly he knows more than he’s saying, but we have to remain open minded.” Gordon told her, though he wasn’t being entirely honest. He definitely considered Derek a suspect, he just didn’t want her to do anything rash with that thought.
“Of course. You lead and I’ll follow. I trust you implicitly.” Isabelle readily responded. She looked at him, her eyes drifting obviously over the wounded parts of his face.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Gordon reassured her.
“I hope not.” She replied as she slowly stood. She collected their empty plates and took them through to the kitchen. Gordon started to follow but she told him to sit where he was as she would only be a minute or so. A moment later she called out to ask him where he kept his painkillers and, a little shamefaced at not having thought of them himself, he told her where to find them. While she was busy clearing up, Gordon wrote some emails, sending them out to his contacts so he could enact his plan to pressure Derek. He didn’t expect much headway to be made that night, but it would start the ball rolling.
Ten or so minutes later, Isabelle returned with a glass of water to take the painkillers and surprised him by thoughtfully bringing fresh ice wrapped in a towel. Gordon gratefully accepted the painkillers and swallowed them with a few hasty gulps of water. Setting the glass down he reached to take the improvised ice pack, but Isabelle had another plan. She came closer to him and pressed it gently against the swelling on his jaw.
“Izzy…” Gordon started, but she shushed him.
“It’s the least I can do.”
His eyes involuntarily sought hers as she tended him, until she reached with her free hand and brushed the other side of his face with her soft fingers.
“We shouldn’t…” He tried again.
“Shouldn’t what?”
“This. Us.” He responded simply. “You’re my client and you’re in a… a vulnerable place.”
“I’ve been in a vulnerable place, but I honestly don’t think I am now. At least, not as much as I was before I met you. I was lonely when my husband died but not anywhere near as lonely as I was when Millie was taken from me. With you helping me, talking with me… I don’t know. I’ve felt things I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe it’s because we’re kindred spirits and maybe it’s because at another time and place we’d have connected anyway. But I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Isabelle said with a mischievous smile, “and I know you’re feeling it too.”
Gordon swallowed before answering.
“I do. I... I never quite got over my wife. She was always the one I was supposed to be with; the feelings I had for her were unique. I never expected to love--” The word tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it; it was unexpected and sudden, an admission of the quickly developed feelings he held for her.
“Sorry.” He said quickly. “Don’t hold it against me; I got hit on the head.” He tried to joke. Isabelle smiled radiantly and, placing the ice pack on the desk, reached down to take his hand. She led him into his bedroom and showed him in her own way, that she cared deeply for him too.
Chapter Ten
It was a little after ten when Gordon awoke. He was holding Isabelle close, and in that moment, as sunlight lazily streaked across his room through the gaps in the blinds, it felt truly right - as if this was how it was meant to be. He hadn’t thought he’d ever be able to love anoth
er woman after Jade died, but now he was holding Izzy in a lover’s embrace. Did she love him too? Had the same feelings sparked inside her broken heart as they had in his? Gordon wasn’t sure and he wasn’t going to question it. For whatever time they spent together, he was going to enjoy it for what it was; the connection of two lonely souls. If more lay in their future, then he’d deal with it then. He disentangled himself from Isabelle and pulled on his underwear and pants before heading through to the kitchen to brew them some coffee. Halfway through he heard her padding barefoot across the floor and then felt her arms slide around him. He wasn’t startled as he had been the last time she’d come up behind him and hugged him unexpectedly. Instead it felt warm and wonderful, and as she kissed the back of his neck, he set down the cups he’d been preparing to fill with their morning drink and turned to face her, pulling her into a tight embrace and kissing her passionately.
“Good morning.” He told her when they broke free. She had slipped on his shirt and looked, to Gordon’s eyes, incredibly beautiful.
“Good morning.” She responded, a warm smile spreading across her lips.
Gordon returned to what he had been doing, offering Isabelle her cup of coffee and then starting out to make breakfast. There was no talk of the case, of what efforts needed to be made that day to draw out Millie’s killer. It wasn’t because either of them had forgotten, Gordon felt sure; rather it was a bubble in time where two people who had experienced pain, anguish and loneliness were finally escaping from that dreadful reality to one where they didn’t hurt quite as much as they had before. When talk of business returned, as it most certainly would, Gordon knew this would be a happy moment they could think of and, perhaps, look forward to re-enacting. For now, they both enjoyed the contentment of being together. While they ate breakfast, they talked freely of their lives before Millie brought them together, sharing memories and short stories of their lost loved ones. For the first time in his life, it didn’t hurt Gordon to think of his wife and daughter.
Unfortunately, their brief, blissful escape from reality was cut short when the phone rang and Gordon was required to return to being the detective she had hired. The caller ID revealed it was Jones.
“Hey there.” Gordon answered brightly.
“Whose bed did you get out of this morning?” Jones asked, clearly surprised. “I don’t remember the last time you actually greeted me.”
“Then remember this moment and cherish it, because I probably won’t next time.”
“Fair enough. So, I pulled some strings, poked around a little and I found some interesting things about Derek.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for starters, his father seems to own everything Derek has: Harold’s name is on the lease to his house and Derek drives a company car… even his magazine subscriptions seem to be paid for by his father. While I couldn’t get closer than that without a warrant, I found it interesting.”
“And more than a little controlling.” Gordon added.
“I also discovered that at the dump site of the third victim a black SUV was spotted in the area a couple of hours before the body was discovered. It stood out because it’s not the kind of car usually seen driving around there, but without a license plate and with the death being ruled as an accidental overdose, nothing came of it.”
“Leland Security own quite a few black SUVs, and I can tell you from personal experience, their guys are willing to do some work outside what could be considered legal.”
“I’m not surprised.” Jones scoffed. “I talked to Belkan - you remember him, right? Used to be in the special weapons team?”
“Vaguely. From the Strangler case?”
“Yeah. Well, I remembered he was hired by Leland after he left the force, so I reached out to him to see if I could get the inside track on the company.”
“And?”
“I’m getting there, let me have my moment.” Jones told him in an unhurried way. “Turns out they hire the usual: ex-cops, ex-military, and they’re not too picky about why they left their former careers. He said that while he never saw or heard anything personally, he was told by a buddy of his about a heavy suggestion made to him that there was good paying work for those who didn’t mind loosening a few teeth for one reason or another, or getting physical while they were ‘persuading’ people to do something they didn’t want to.” Jones explained.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Gordon stated evasively, his hand involuntarily rising to cup his bruised jaw.
“Now, officially, there’s never been anything to tie Leland Security or anyone working for them to anything untoward; they’ve got contracts to protect a variety of VIP’s and their families, from politicians to celebrities, so I think it’s probably best to wait until you’ve got something solid before you rock the boat.”
“I think the only way we can get something solid is to give the boat a good, hard rock and see what falls out.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you.” Jones responded dismissively. “Just watch your back and call me if you need anything.”
“I will, but keep that rookie partner of yours out of it. She sounds smart but if this goes sideways… well, not that I want to ruin your career, but hers is just beginning.” Gordon instructed firmly.
“I’m not sure whether to be touched or offended, but I catch your meaning. Take care, Crane.”
Gordon hung up the phone and placed it carefully on the desk, his mind buzzing with what ifs, whys, and maybes. Turning, he found Isabelle looking at him expectantly. He quickly caught her up on the brief, but informative, conversation he’d had with his old partner. Once he was done, Isabelle crossed her legs and leaned forward in her chair.
“Are you sure this is safe? I want to know - need to know - what happened to Millie, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Gordon.” Isabelle told him with a slight catch in her voice.
“It’s a manageable risk. Although he wants to keep me away from his son – for whatever reason - Harold won’t do anything too overt, because he has a lot to lose if anything leads back to him.” Gordon told her in an effort to soothe her concerns. “Besides, Jones will have my back if things get out of hand.”
Isabelle stood up and came close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with utmost tenderness. He held her close and enjoyed the warmth of her embrace.
“Just be careful. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I will be. I promise.” Gordon assured her.
They kissed quickly again and parted. He told Isabelle she could use the shower while he checked his emails to see if any of his contacts had responded. Apparently they had all started working immediately, and with a company like Leland Security, it was certain they were aware of the probing even at this early stage. Gordon smiled and wondered how long it would take for Derek or Harold to call him. Once Isabelle was done, Gordon quickly showered and dressed before offering to walk Isabelle back to her car. He gathered his belongings - his keys and phone, leaving his gun in the drawer - and then left his office at her side. As they walked their fingers danced together as though each was toying with the idea of holding the other’s hand. Eventually, once they were down the flights of stairs, her hand found its place in his and they smiled briefly at each other. The hot, dry air of Nevada hit them as they exited the building, the temperature steadily rising as the sun followed its path across the clear, blue sky. Gordon glanced up and down the street, looking keenly to see if there were any black SUV’s, but he saw none.
“I’m just down here.” Isabelle announced, gesturing to her vehicle. It was a short walk down the street, so they started moving in tandem towards it.
“I’ll call you tonight and let you know how things are going.”
“Just come by; there’s no need to call unless you’d like me to come to you.” She responded, her smile dazzling him for a moment.
“I will.”
They continued sauntering along in their carefree way, stopping near the hood of her vehicle. She
turned to face him, looking momentarily vulnerable as she rested her rear against the hood and looked up at his face.
“I’d hate to have to sleep alone. I… I find myself feeling safe with you.”
Gordon smiled. “Me too, I feel warm and contented… I guess that means I feel safe too.”
He was focused on her, but was nevertheless aware of the sound of a car engine turning over close by. They kissed and, as Gordon pulled away, he saw a vehicle pulling out from behind a couple of parked cars and start driving slowly towards them. He was holding her hands in his, and while his senses were flooded with her - her scent, the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin - he was also aware of something else. Gordon glanced at the car. The windows were tinted dark and the vehicle itself looked a little beat up. The window on the passenger side was rolled down and, as it approached, he found himself looking at it more intently, hoping to see what he could of the passengers.
“What’s wrong?” Isabelle asked, looking at his face with concern. As she turned to follow his gaze the car suddenly sped up, the aged engine revving hard and Gordon realized to his immediate horror that someone was pointing a weapon out of the open window.
“Down!” Gordon yelled a second before the explosive sound of automatic weapon fire cut through the quiet street. He reacted immediately, pushing Isabelle to the ground behind the car and throwing himself down on top of her. In the same instant the glass of the vehicle’s windows shattered, sending chunks of safety glass exploding out, to be followed by the heavy thud of bullets hitting the chassis. The building behind them took fire as well, with the windows of the ground floor apartment splintering before shards of glass dropped from the frame, while the masonry was slammed and gouged by the drive-by shots. Someone was screaming nearby, but Gordon couldn’t focus on that; he heard the car peeling away in some distant place in his mind as the gunfire ceased and he felt a painful, warm wetness running down from his left shoulder. He was aware of these things but they meant nothing, because what he was looking at was tearing his heart to shreds.
His Twisted Smile Page 15
