Death Is Not Enough

by Karen Rose

  Thorne swallowed hard, fighting to keep a lid on his fury, because he wanted to drive to Anderson Ferry and tear Gwyn’s father’s head right off his neck. ‘I know. I met her at Lucy and JD’s wedding. Did she report your father?’

  ‘No. She asked me if I wanted to report him, but I said no, so she just cleaned and stitched my cuts and bandaged me up. I told her that I wanted to get away, and she loaned me some money. I hitched a ride into Ocean City and went to Terrence’s room at the boarding house. He took one look at me and wanted to kill my father.’ She stroked Thorne’s tight jaw. ‘Kind of like you do right now.’

  He swallowed again. ‘The thought has entered my mind.’

  ‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Turned out Terrence was getting ready to go home. To Sarasota. His parents had supported him getting his degree, but agreed that he’d come home after graduation to be part of the family act again. He belonged to a circus family. Tightrope walkers. Terrence was also an archer. Did a William Tell type act where he shot an apple off his assistant’s head.’

  Thorne’s brows shot up. He’d never heard this part of her circus story. ‘Were you his assistant?’

  ‘I was. And I was fabulous.’

  ‘I’ll just bet,’ he grumbled.

  ‘No need for jealousy. He’s been out of the picture for almost twenty years. But that year, he took me home with him to Sarasota. It’s a circus town, you know. The winter home of Ringling when it was operating. Huge circus museum. Used to even have a clown college. Lots of circus people still live there. Anyway, his mom took me in. Fussed over me. His dad wanted to kill mine when Terrence told them what happened. They were nice people.’

  ‘Were?’

  ‘Yeah, they died in a hit-and-run. They were tightrope performers, but they died crossing the damn street a few months after Terrence and I had left the circus. I traveled with them for a couple of years, until I was eighteen. Worked for my keep. Started out sweeping and shoveling shit, but I had some skills. I’d done gymnastics in high school. Dreamed of the Olympics, but we never had the money for that kind of coaching. But I wasn’t bad, and I was . . . flexible.’

  ‘Of this I am well aware,’ Thorne said, hoping to pull a small smile to her mouth.

  She did smile, just a little. ‘Yeah, well. There was this woman there who did a contortionist act. She trained me and I was good. I could get out of all kinds of locked boxes and tied ropes. Learned to pick locks, get free of chains.’

  ‘That’s how you knew how to pick locks when we’d go undercover, investigating for the firm?’

  ‘Yep. Picking locks is a bankable skill. I was cute back then. Made good tips.’

  ‘You’re cute now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I wanted to try the tightrope, though. Which did not end well.’

  ‘You got hurt.’

  ‘Yeah. There was a net, but one of the other performers fell on top of me. My back still aches when it gets cold. But the hospital needed my medical records and it came out that I was just eighteen. Which meant I’d lied about my age. I agreed to quit so that the circus – and Terrence’s family – wouldn’t get into any trouble for hiring me without proper ID. Terrence wasn’t happy, though, and he’d lost his archery target. He wanted to leave. His parents were chill, and they kissed us both and gave us a little cash, and off we went. Terrence had put together a band and I played piano and sang. At the beginning, I only knew church hymns, but I learned a few things from Terrence.’

  He growled. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about him.’

  She sighed. ‘You have to, because none of that was in the fire safe.’

  ‘What was?’

  ‘I got pregnant. I was eighteen. And a half. He and I had been traveling with the band for about six months. I went to tell him the news and found out that I wasn’t his only port in a storm.’

  Thorne was still stuck on ‘pregnant’. She’d never mentioned a baby, so either she’d never had it or she’d put it up for adoption. He gathered his wits, though, because she’d stopped talking. He latched onto the topic that felt less like a minefield. ‘Terrence was cheating.’

  ‘Yeah. With one of the other singers. I hated her. I threw a hysterical fit and she left. I told him about the baby and he wanted me to get rid of it. I couldn’t. I know some women do and I support their choice, but it wasn’t right for me. He gave me an ultimatum. So I left and went home to Anderson Ferry. My mother and father were not happy to see me. And when I told them I was pregnant, they threw me out.’

  Thorne clenched his teeth so hard that a sharp pain speared his jaw. ‘I really hate your parents, Gwyn.’

  ‘Me too. I didn’t have anywhere to go. Terrence’s parents were gone. I had one great-aunt in Baltimore. My mother’s aunt, who they rarely spoke of except to pray for her immortal soul. I found her and she took me in, no questions asked.’

  ‘Your Aunt Aida. Your letters for Sheidalin.’

  ‘Kind of. I loved my aunt, but she was much older and in bad health. I got my GED while I was pregnant, but I had no real business skills. She helped me see that I couldn’t provide a good home for a baby and that I needed to be able to fend for myself, because she wasn’t going to be around for much longer. She might have been the family bad girl, but she had the kindest heart. She knew some people who knew some people, you know? And through them we met the couple who adopted him.’

  Him. ‘You had a boy?’ he asked, unprepared for how much the question hurt.

  ‘Yeah. I named him Aidan, after my aunt. The couple liked the name and kept it.’

  ‘That’s your I-D-A, then,’ he said, and she nodded. ‘What happened to the family?’

  ‘They’re in Virginia, near Richmond. Aidan just graduated from high school. He’s going to Virginia Tech next year to play football.’

  ‘So what was in the fire safe? Pictures of him?’

  ‘I only have one photo and it was in there, but it was just a copy. The original is in my safe deposit box at the bank. That’s the only picture I have of me holding him. The rest are newspaper clippings. Most of them are from his high school football games.’

  ‘You ever see him play?’

  She closed her eyes, but not before he saw the pain there. ‘Once. Just once. I couldn’t stay. It hurt too much. It was a big game. Homecoming. Lots of people there and it was cold, so I could wrap a scarf around my face. No chance of his parents seeing me. I didn’t want to intrude. I just wanted to see him. But I had to leave.’

  He could imagine her sitting all alone in the stands, her heart breaking. His was breaking just listening to her. ‘Did you see him any other times?’

  ‘Occasionally, yes. Sometimes – and I’m not proud of this – I’d go to his neighborhood and watch for a glimpse of him. Just playing. I wanted to be sure he was okay. That he was happy. That they really were good people. He was always smiling.’

  He sighed, picturing that too. ‘You think Anne will be able to open the fire safe?’

  ‘I’d be shocked if she hasn’t already. Other than you and Lucy, that boy means more to me than anyone else in this world. If I were them and I were trying to figure out how best to hurt you, I’d pick me. And with Lucy now out of reach, Aidan is the only one they can use to hurt me.’

  ‘We should contact his parents then.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d say that. I . . .’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t, though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because he was eighteen in February.’

  Oh. Oh God. ‘The seventeenth is his birthday?’ 0-2-1-7. How many times had he entered that alarm code without knowing what it stood for?

  She nodded. ‘His parents said they’d tell him about me when he turned eighteen and leave it up to him whether to contact me. He’s been eighteen for four months now and I’ve heard nothing.’

  ‘Maybe they
didn’t tell him.’

  She shrugged. ‘All the more reason I shouldn’t call them. I don’t want them to think I’m pressuring them. That wouldn’t be fair. Plus, what if he picks up? That could be awkward, and even more unfair to him. I was going to ask Jamie to contact them, as my lawyer. But . . . you could, if you wanted.’

  If he wanted . . . Yeah, he wanted to do this for her. He hoped he was strong enough. ‘I’ll ask Alec to get me the number.’

  ‘He already did. He sent it to my phone.’

  ‘Oh. That’s what that look was for.’

  ‘Yeah. He was trying to preserve my privacy. He didn’t ask who they were.’

  ‘Alec’s a good kid.’ He tilted her chin up, kissed her gently. ‘You know this doesn’t change how I feel about you, right?’

  She swallowed hard. ‘I’d hoped it wouldn’t,’ she whispered.

  ‘You did what was best for Aidan.’ He remembered the early years, right after he’d met her. She’d struggled to make ends meet. Struggled to get her degree, to make a life for herself. She’d been too proud to accept his help, had eaten a steady diet of ramen for the first year or two. ‘He’s had a good life, right?’

  Her nod was shaky. ‘I believe so, and I’ve watched. Carefully. Later, after I had my degree, I wanted to change my mind. I wanted him back, but I couldn’t have done it, even if I’d had a legal leg to stand on, which I didn’t. He was happy. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s been happy.’

  She reached for the dog, palming the side of his head as he leaned against them, once again sensing her mood. ‘I’ve been hoping to hear from him for months. But if I don’t, I’ll be okay. Just the hope . . .’ She faltered. ‘I woke up the morning he turned seventeen and grieved, like I always have. Then . . . I looked around and knew I’d fallen so far into depression, retreated so far from life that even if he did seek me out, I’d be no good for him. I had a year to get good enough. I figured that it had taken me three years to get as bad as I was, that digging my way out wasn’t going to happen overnight, but that I could do it in a year.’

  ‘You had a goal,’ he murmured. Would she have worked so hard to dig her way out for me if I’d had the courage to tell her how I really felt four years ago? Probably not. She hadn’t been ready then to embrace that part of her that Evan had stolen. But motherly love . . . He thought of Stevie and Lucy and Paige with their babies. That was powerful. Powerful enough to yank Gwyn toward the light.

  ‘I did. I found the therapist and then I found Tweety.’ She smiled. ‘And then I found you. Right where you’d been all along.’

  He opened his mouth to say something wise. Something comforting. But all that came out was a hoarse ‘I’m so glad you did.’ Because he hadn’t been sure how much longer he could have lasted.

  ‘Me too.’ She drew a breath, checked the time. ‘We should call them now, even though it’s late. If something happens during the night, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.’ She handed him her phone, Alec’s email opened, before sliding off his lap.

  ‘You want to be here while I call?’

  ‘No. I think I’ll go upstairs and get some water. Come on, Tweety.’

  Annapolis, Maryland,

  Wednesday 15 June, 10.05 P.M.

  He zipped his trousers, feeling languid and well rested after fucking Kathryn in his shower. Kathryn lounged on the sofa behind him, looking long-leggedly sexy in his shirt. She’d been especially passionate tonight, because for her, watching him dismember a man was an aphrodisiac. It was just one of the things he’d come to love about her.

  Nystrom was dead, his body cooling in the punishment room. Patton would deal with him in the morning.

  ‘What are you going to do about Thorne?’ Kathryn asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘He’s whisked all his people away. I know where they are, but getting to them will be tricky. They’re getting wise about texts too, so we’ll have to come up with something else.’

  She shrugged. ‘They can’t keep their families separated forever. They’ll come home, they’ll return to normal, and when they least suspect it, you’ll get them again. In the meantime, you’ve got his clients angry with him and his club is closed.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, smiling. ‘Are we staying here tonight or going home?’

  ‘Let’s go home. I mean, Nystrom was fun while he was screaming, but now, knowing he’s dead and getting nasty is kind of a turnoff.’

  He didn’t care much. The sight of a cooling corpse had never bothered him. ‘Give me my shirt then,’ he said. He grabbed his cell phone from his desk to slide it into his pocket, but noticed a new text from Margo, accompanied by two photos: one a grainy picture of a young man in an American football uniform, the second of a woman holding a baby. He flicked the screen to expand the photo, then realized the woman was a very young Gwyn Weaver.

  Found you something, the text read. His name is Aidan. What do you want me to do with him?

  He smiled and held out the phone to Kathryn, who’d tugged on her black dress and was now handing him his shirt.

  ‘Oh, Margo,’ she cooed. ‘She hit gold.’ She gave the phone back. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘What do you think I should do?’

  ‘Have Patton pick him up,’ Kathryn decided after a moment of thought. ‘Drug him and leave him somewhere to be found.’ She smiled. ‘Just to show her that you can. Send her a photo. That’ll hurt her enough for now. You don’t want to break her yet. She’s Thorne’s favorite. You want to torment her until she has no choice but to leave him. Because she’ll have to blame him sooner or later.’

  ‘I like it.’ He texted Margo the instructions, then added: Good work. Get some sleep, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Hunt Valley, Maryland,

  Wednesday 15 June, 10.05 P.M.

  Thorne waited until he’d heard Gwyn climb the stairs, then dialed the number for Aidan’s adopted family.

  ‘Hello?’ a man answered.

  ‘Hello. I’d like to speak to Randy York.’

  ‘If you’re selling something, I’m not interested.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Thorne said quickly. ‘Please give me just a moment. My name is Thomas Thorne. I’m sorry to be calling so late. Gwyn Weaver asked me to contact you.’

  The man sucked in an audible breath. ‘I know who you are. You’re Gwyn’s partner. The one who’s wanted for murder.’

  Thorne had to take a second to regroup. He should have anticipated that people outside the city had read about their situation. ‘That is not entirely correct. I am Gwyn’s partner.’ In every way. ‘But I am not wanted for murder.’

  ‘That’s not what I hear on the news.’

  Thorne pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Well, I can give you references in Baltimore PD and the FBI and you can check for yourself. For now, I’m calling on Gwyn’s behalf. If you’ve been following this story in the news, you’ll know that my family, my friends and my businesses have been targeted.’

  A beat of silence. ‘You’re saying someone’s trying to set you up?’ The man’s doubt was clear.

  ‘Call Special Agent Joseph Carter. He’ll give you the truth. For now, I am calling on behalf of Gwyn,’ he repeated. ‘Please, Mr York. This is important.’

  ‘What? What does Gwyn want?’ Now there was fear in the man’s voice.

  ‘To warn you. Her apartment was broken into tonight. Ransacked. Her safe with her important papers were stolen. Among them were some newspaper clippings of your son she’d collected over the years. It may be nothing, but she’s worried that they’ll go after Aidan to hurt her. Which will hurt me.’

  ‘That’s . . . preposterous.’

  ‘My other business partner, Lucy Fitzpatrick, barely escaped a burning house with her two children this afternoon. Her son isn’t quite three. He is my godson. Her daughter is almost one. She is Gw
yn’s goddaughter.’

  ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘My adopted father is in a cardiac care unit because someone broke into his home and attacked him. One of my investigators has a concussion and the officer who was guarding them is still in critical condition after being shot.’

  ‘Oh. Oh no.’ He dropped his voice to a hushed whisper. ‘And you think these people will hurt Aidan?’

  ‘Like I said, it could be nothing, but she wanted you to be aware so that Aidan could be on his guard. She figured he’d still be living at home, that he wouldn’t have left for college yet.’

  ‘Yes, he’s still here.’

  ‘That’s good. That will ease her mind. You can tell him what you wish. But she trusts that your first priority will be to keep him safe.’

  An extended exhale. ‘All right. My wife and I will discuss what we’ll tell him. For now, he’s safe in his room. Do the police have any suspects?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know. I’d suggest you call Agent Carter for that information.’ He gave the man Carter’s phone number.

  ‘I’ll call him first thing in the morning. Why . . . why didn’t Gwyn call us herself?’

  ‘Because she didn’t want to put you on the spot. And she didn’t want to risk Aidan answering. She especially doesn’t want to pressure him.’

  ‘That’s kind of her.’ He hesitated a few beats. ‘We told him. When he was eighteen. We told him that we’d adopted him. We told him what we knew about his birth mother. His reaction was . . . typically Aidan. He’s a stoic kid. Keeps his emotions close to the vest.’

  ‘Like his mother,’ Thorne said softly. ‘Look. Gwyn suffered a terrible trauma four years ago. It was the knowledge that Aidan was turning eighteen soon that helped her find her way back to who she’d been before.’

  ‘I know about that. I keep up with her too. In the news, I mean. My wife and I were so glad to read that she was all right after that attack.’

  She wasn’t all right, Thorne thought. She’s not totally all right even now. But she will be. He’d make sure of it.

  ‘I’m not telling you this so that you feel pressured either. I just want you to know that Aidan continues to be important to her. If he ever chooses to meet her, she’ll be ready. For now, it’s important that he’s kept safe.’