“He’ll be okay.” Ryan moved to my side. “He’s as tough as his granddaughter.”
I leaned against him for a moment.
What I wouldn’t give for just a couple minutes with Ryan, someone who I don’t need to impress, placate, or worry about….
I turned to my family. “If you’ll excuse us, I’m going to give Ryan a tour of the shop.”
Eddie waved his hand. “We’ll be here.”
I dragged Ryan through the crowd to the rooms at the back of the building—a couple offices and storage rooms. All locked, and worse, the hallway was full of people waiting in line for the one-room bathroom—including Holly, who squealed and dragged Ryan close for a hug before letting us continue. Exasperated, I headed for the rear of the shop, for the human-sized door next to the full-height rollup through which racecars and equipment were loaded in and out. The people door was propped open by a sandbag, and I worried we’d find a crowd of people outside in the wide alley between the two Beermeier buildings.
A quick glance showed no one—at least that was the impression I got between stepping foot in the loading zone and when I was pinned against the block wall of the building and kissed senseless.
After a minute—two? five?—Ryan let us both up for air, cupping my face in his hands and leaning his forehead on mine. “I missed you.”
I smiled. “I thought you weren’t going to make it this weekend. What happened?”
He pulled back enough to give me a saucy look. “You bought that story? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could, we heard a sob. We broke apart and saw two huddled figures at the end of the building, against the wall. We ran toward them, Ryan’s hand moving to the gun at his waist.
The sobbing figure was Alexa Wittmeier, my boss, on her knees next to the still figure of her father, slumped on his side on the ground. Even in the poor exterior lighting, I could tell Ron Arvin’s face and head were bloody. That his head rested in a pool of blood. That Alexa’s hands were covered with it.
“Alexa.” I sank to my knees next to her—though I had the presence of mind to stay well away from the blood. “What happened? Did you call an ambulance?”
Alexa shook her head, trying to draw enough breath to speak. Ryan circled around Ron and pressed two fingers to his neck, then shook his head.
He’s dead?
I felt blank. Couldn’t find other words to think or say. I put my arms around Alexa and pulled her close, as Ryan called in the cavalry. When he was done, he leaned close to my ear.
“You haven’t touched anything, right?” he murmured.
“No. What can I do?”
He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Stay with her. We need someone to keep people from coming out here. I can do it for now, but I’ll need to talk to the authorities when they arrive.”
“Text Holly. Have her meet you at the back door. She’ll do it.”
I rocked back off my knees and into a seated position, pulling Alexa with me. She stared at her bloody hands, then slumped against me, still weeping.
Ryan frowned. “I was thinking of someone more like a big, burly security guard.”
“She might be only five feet tall, but no one’s going to mess with her. Get her out here, Ryan. She’ll do what you need.” I heard the exasperation in my voice, and I grabbed his hand to stop him from moving. “I’m sorry. I’m…”
He kissed the top of my head. “I know.”
Alexa got quiet and pulled away from me. “I’m sorry to fall apart on you.”
Lacking tissue or handkerchief, I used the cuff of my long-sleeved shirt to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “It’s the only reasonable response. I’m so sorry.”
She stared at her hands. “I need to wash.”
I thought about evidence. “Let’s wait for the police. They’ll be here soon.”
She shrugged and wiped her nose on her sleeve, like a kid.
“Did you see anything, Alexa?” I asked.
“I came looking for him, because someone said he’d gone out this way, and I found him like this.” She started to cry again, big silent tears that slid down her face. “I didn’t see anyone or anything. Only him.”
I reached out and held her again, as she kept talking. “He was still alive when I got here. I leaned over him, and he saw me. Knew me.” She hiccupped a breath. “He said my name and he said ‘sorry.’ Then he was gone.” She looked blindly at her father’s body. “I held his hand. It was all I could do.” She crumpled as we heard the first sirens.
Fifteen minutes later, Alexa and I remained in the same position, but everything around us had changed. Holly watched the door to the shop, a fierce expression on her face. Gramps stood next to her, arms crossed, his face grim. The police had strung yellow crime scene tape to block access to the loading zone and alley. And Ryan stood talking with the guys in charge, a few steps away from us and Ron Arvin’s body.
Alexa had mostly calmed again, helped by the packet of tissues Holly brought over. As we watched an ambulance pull up to the mouth of the alley, lights flashing but minus a siren, Alexa stirred. “I need to stand up.”
I helped her, keeping an arm around her waist until I knew she was steady.
“Let’s move over there,” I suggested, pointing to the wall of the building opposite the shop—inside the taped-off area, but well away from the official activity and the body.
She looked down at her father. “It’s hard,” she mumbled, and I saw tears streaming again. “If I don’t stand up, if I don’t step away…it didn’t really happen, right? I can stay in that moment and not deal with everything that comes after.”
I didn’t say anything, but leaned into her for comfort.
She took a shuddering breath, still looking at the crumpled, bloody figure on the ground. “I know he messed up. I know he did awful things—and paid for them—we all paid for them. But he’d learned, and he regretted everything.” She turned to me, eyes beseeching. “Underneath it all, Kate, under the opportunism and the momentary greed, he was a good man. He was my daddy.” Her voice broke on the last word.
My own eyes filled with tears at the devastation on her face. “I’m so sorry. At least you had him in your life.” I pulled her in for a hug, realizing what I’d said.
At least she did have her father in her life. More than I’d had.
I shook my head. Not the time for my own family drama.
“Come on.” I urged her away from the body.
I stayed with her until Ryan approached with a tall, slim man with gray hair and a young face. Lieutenant Noble focused on Alexa, and Ryan led me away.
“You all right?” he asked.
I nodded, looking over at Ron’s body. I’d been so focused on helping Alexa cope, that I hadn’t dealt with the fact of someone I knew bloody and dead in front of me. Three feet away from me. I shuddered. “That poor man.”
Ryan put his arms around me and rested his chin on the top of my head. “Did Alexa see anything? Anyone?”
“No,” I said into his chest. “And she didn’t do it.”
“I don’t think she did. I saw her inside a couple minutes before we got out here. I told the officers she wasn’t gone long enough.”
“She got to him right before he died. He said her name and apologized to her.”
“For what?”
“She didn’t know or didn’t say. Maybe for what he’d done in life.” I pulled away, maintaining my grip on Ryan but able to see his face. “He spent time in jail for running drugs. He used to own a team, and that’s how he funded it. He was even PJ’s team owner—I told you about PJ.”
“I know.”
When Ryan didn’t ask any questions, I studied his face as he watched the activity around the body. I pulled a hand free and punched him in the shoulder. “You knew all of
that. You ran him. Why would you run Ron?” I thought a moment. “You ran Alexa?”
He grimaced and focused on me again. “Call it an occupational hazard and a protective streak. I wanted to know you’d be safe. Sue me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“That would have been abusing my position and privileges.” He held up a hand before I could object. “But if you’d been in any danger or you’d said anything was hinky, I’d have shared the information.”
I sighed. “It’s a great welcome for you, isn’t it?” I felt sick with grief for Ron and Alexa and awful that Ryan had shown up only to deal with something like work. I also felt the first trickle of panic that this whole situation could jeopardize me, the team, my car for the race on Sunday.
How selfish is that?
“Forget me.” Ryan put his hands on my shoulders and made me meet his eyes. His warm, lovely, and too perceptive brown eyes. “What the hell’s going on here?”
Chapter Thirty-one
I blew out a breath. “The usual is what’s going on.”
“Racing, with a little murder on the side?” Ryan frowned at the cops and crime scene people. “Are you a magnet?”
“I don’t ask for it.”
“I know, it finds you.”
“When can we leave? I’ll explain everything back at the apartment.” I caught sight of Gramps and Holly at the back door of the shop. “We’ll all explain.”
Ryan checked in with the police and a couple minutes later we each spoke with a different officer about what we’d seen before and after entering the alley. A few minutes after that, we were free to go. We couldn’t enter the shop building, as the police were clearing it of people, so we headed for the line of caution tape that held a small crowd at bay. I ignored the camera flashes and the handful of voices calling my name and zeroed in instead on Diane Wittmeier, huddled against the building at the edge of the crowd.
“Kate,” Diane called, as I approached. “Is my girl all right?” She was jittery, bordering on frantic.
I ran the last couple steps and hugged her. “She’s okay. Talking with the cops.”
I’d thought plenty about what Alexa was going through, losing her father, but I hadn’t considered Diane losing her ex-husband. I squeezed her hands. “I’m sorry.”
She blinked back tears. “Thanks. I wish…a lot of things. Right now, I’d like to be with Alexa. Do you know when she’ll be done?”
I turned to Ryan and explained who Diane was, and he made arrangements with an officer to take her to Alexa.
“Now, let’s get out of here,” Ryan murmured, his hand on my back guiding me through the crowd.
Holly rode back to our apartment with Ryan in his rental car, and Gramps and I sped off in mine. We were quiet for the first ten full minutes.
Gramps finally let out an explosive sigh. “Hell of a thing. Did you see him?”
I clenched the steering wheel. “I did. Ryan and I both found Alexa next to him.” I saw the tableau again—the slumped, bloody father, the kneeling, grieving daughter. It would take a lot to wipe the scene from my mind.
“I’m sorry, Katie.”
I reached over and found his hand. “Me, too.”
“Crazy time for Ryan to show up—right as there’s a murder? I guess you’ll have to tell him about our investigation?”
“Seems that way.”
Gramps nodded, staring at the highway ahead of us. “Maybe he’ll help.”
I’d settle for him not being mad.
While Ryan stowed his bags in my room, Holly pulled out her notepad and possibly-forged PJ autographs, and Gramps set up spoons, bowls, and ice cream. I leaned against the half wall between the living and dining rooms and drank two large glasses of water. Ryan exited the bedroom rubbing his eyes, and for the first time I noticed the fatigue in his expression.
“Want some ice cream, my boy?” Gramps asked. He dug into the carton, the tip of his tongue between his teeth.
Ryan grinned. “A small bowl.” He crossed to the counter and doctored his scoops of vanilla with a quick squirt of chocolate sauce.
I filled my glass again and sat down at the table with him. As Holly and Gramps joined us, Ryan waved his spoon.
“What’s going on? How were you investigating this death before it happened?”
I froze as his words hit me. I’d been so caught up in the horror of Ron Arvin’s death, I hadn’t considered the impact.
“Why’s that question a shock?” Ryan asked.
I shook my head slowly. “We weren’t investigating his death.”
“No one else died around here, or I’d have heard about it.” Ryan surveyed the people in the room and the supplies on the table. “And this has all the signs of an investigation. You’re only missing the secret decoder rings.”
Holly sighed, elaborately. “Only because you won’t tell me where you got yours.”
Ryan plunked his spoon down in his empty bowl, and I jumped in before he could speak. “Let me start by saying I didn’t go looking for this. I was asked—pressured. I don’t know where I’ll get with it, but I said I’d try. And these two wanted to help. We’re being careful.”
“What’s the crime?” Ryan’s tone was mild.
“Oh, it’s murder,” Gramps put in.
Everyone opened their mouths to speak, and I topped them all. “Thirty years ago.”
I saw Ryan get it. Saw his mind work. His brows drew together. “Who asked?”
“Her family.” I explained everything that had happened from the first practice to the erasure of my identity for PJ’s in the media to the meeting and press conference with PJ’s mother and brother. “It’s not that I think I—we—can figure out who killed her. Or maybe we’ll end up with a good idea but no proof.” I struggled for words.
“There’s more behind it than thinking we’ll catch a killer,” Holly put in.
“I need to understand PJ.” I pushed back from the table and paced the kitchen. “When I first heard about her—which wasn’t until after the first practice—I felt a bond. We’d both done this lucky, flukey, amazing thing, thirty years apart. I admired her for doing it that long ago, with the extra battles she fought. And then when I heard she’d committed suicide…I couldn’t make sense of it. It didn’t fit.”
“Why not?” Ryan asked. “Not all individuals are built the same way.”
“Because I understand who she was and who she had to be to get to that point—this point, the same point I’m at. And I simply can’t understand how she could change so fundamentally that she would take her own life.”
Ryan nodded. “Because you couldn’t.”
“Yes, but it’s not me projecting on her.” I saw his expression. “It’s not. I got curious about PJ, so I started asking people about her—to understand, to know more about her. And every story I heard convinced me it wasn’t in her nature to give up.” I stopped moving. “She wouldn’t have given up. Someone made that choice for her.”
“I’m not criticizing or even disagreeing,” Ryan said, “but do you have evidence to back that up?”
I shook my head. “Only opinion, unless Ron Arvin’s death is an indication.”
Ryan picked up Holly’s notes. “You’d worked on who benefitted from PJ’s death, and Arvin did?”
“As well as others, to different degrees,” Holly said.
Ryan yawned, then apologized. “I’ve been up for twenty-two hours. I’m taking you seriously, but can we sleep on it?” He glanced around. “We could all use some rest.”
“I’ve got a call at ten and I have to be at the track by twelve-thirty.” I considered. “Breakfast and discussion at nine?”
Holly nodded. “Special Team Kate out for the night.” She disappeared into her bedroom, and with a wave, Gramps headed for his own.
Ryan took my hand. “Special Te
am Kate?”
“Decoder rings on order. Thanks for not yelling.”
He sighed as I shut the bedroom door. “I don’t like it. But I understand.”
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
He dropped down on the bed, flat on his back, groaned as he covered his eyes with his hand. “I’m going to regret this, but yes.”
I pressed myself along the length of his body. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
His lips curved as he ran his hands down my body. “How?”
“We’ll get you a ring, too.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Gramps, Holly, and I lingered over the egg casserole Holly had made for breakfast. Ryan ended a call as he reentered the room. “The initial impression was Arvin’s death was a mugging gone bad—watch and money missing.” He scrutinized each of us in turn. “And none of you will repeat this.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Gramps stood to collect empty plates.
“Except we don’t think that’s true,” I replied, frowning. “Why pick him? Why pick that location? It’s not where muggings happen.”
“Opportunity?” Ryan offered.
“That won’t wash,” Holly said. “I saw plenty of people in and out of that back door earlier in the evening for a smoke. All wore more jewelry and expensive shoes than Ron. He was targeted—and not for theft.”
I nodded. “The only thing that makes sense is he knew something about PJ’s death—involved or not—and someone went after him for it.” I raised my eyebrows at Ryan. “Don’t you think?”
He leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I’m playing devil’s advocate. Making you test your theories.”
His implicit approval was nice, but I still felt at sea. “So what’s next?”
“We’ve been focusing on who had motive to kill PJ.” Holly spoke slowly. “Do we assume the same person killed Ron?”
“Doesn’t it have to be?” I asked the group, but mostly Ryan, who shrugged.
Gramps sat back down in a chair after cleaning the counters. “I can ask around to see if Ron was into anything bad or if he was keeping clean.”
Kiss the Bricks Page 16
