Maybe, to him, nothing did.
I was obviously just one girl in a long line of many.
That woman at the bar had proved that.
It didn’t matter. I was better off with Ian.
I rolled over and glanced at the alarm clock. It was ten AM on a Saturday, and for once I didn’t have to work. Working with Sarah did have its perks. Unless something broke in the case, I was free to enjoy a lazy day.
Or in my case, continue to kick myself in the ass for nearly making one hell of a mistake.
I kicked off the covers and slid out of the bed, meandering down the hall to the kitchen. To make matters worse, I was feeling the effects of all the alcohol I’d ingested.
Coffee. The only thing that can cure a hangover.
I’d barely made it into the kitchen and started the glorious brew when my doorbell rang. I looked around the kitchen as if someone might tell me who was at the door. Very few people knew where I lived, and I liked it that way. Maybe Jude followed me home.
If he did that, I’d arrest his ass for stalking.
I moved toward the door, grabbing my gun, just to be safe.
The doorbell rang again.
“Lucy Eleanor Diamond,” a familiar voice rang from the other side. “I know you’re in there. I see your car out here.”
Michael!
I set my gun aside and raced to the door, throwing it open. Sunlight cascaded into the room, glowing around my foster dad, making him appear on fire.
My guardian angel.
How many times had I thought that about this man?
For a man in his early sixties, he didn’t look it. His six-foot-four frame was broad and firm. He shaved his head to eliminate signs of gray and baldness, but that only added to his allure. His green eyes shone bright, taking me in. A smile spread across his face, making his whole demeanor shine with happiness. “There’s my girl.”
I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight. Sobs wracked my body. Everything I’d held in for days, weeks, months, and even years, poured out of me. Seeing him broke the dam in my soul, and nothing could patch it up.
“Oh my. This is worse than I thought,” he mumbled, patting me on the back.
“I’m so happy to see you.”
I released him and took a step back, allowing him to enter my home. A little embarrassed, I dropped my eyes from his gaze as he walked inside. It wasn’t like me to be overly expressive, especially in a physical nature. I could count on one hand how many times I’d hugged Michael of my own free will.
But I’d needed this. More than I was willing to admit. Just having him here made everything seem a little better. All thoughts of Jude and what nearly happened between us disappeared, replaced by Michael’s visit.
Outside, a black sedan with a driver sitting inside, waited idly by for instructions. Michael insisted I use one of those as a kid, going to school with Aaron and Liam. Coming from having nothing to having everything was quite an adjustment for me. One I never acclimated to.
I closed the door and wiped away my tears, before turning to face Michael.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, directing him toward the sofa.
Michael glanced around my apartment, then moved toward the proffered seat. “I’m here for a few days to help out Liam and Aaron.”
He sat down, his eyes everywhere but on me. I tried not to think anything of it, since Michael was an extremely observant person. That’s what comes of a man who spent his years as a corporate attorney.
“How’s everyone doing?” I asked, smelling the coffee brewing in the kitchen.
“Good. Good.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Getting ready for the upcoming election cycle.”
“Would you like some coffee?” I grinned and motioned toward the kitchen. He nodded. We both lifted from our seats and made our way to the kitchen. “So, are the rumors true? Is Liam running for president?”
Michael’s head bobbed. “This stays between us, but yeah. He’s looking for a campaign manager right now.”
I turned around; my mouth gaped open. “What? Elizabeth isn’t running his campaign?”
“We all feel it’s in their best interest if she doesn’t.”
I held my tongue, but I was pretty certain Elizabeth wouldn’t have taken that very well. She ran Liam’s last campaign and it landed him in the Senate seat. Who was I to argue that point? She wasn’t his wife then, which did change the dynamic.
Michael sat down in the rickety chair at the Formica table in my kitchen. I poured us both a cup and joined him. Michael was the one who taught me to drink my coffee black. Coffee wasn’t coffee once you doctored it with sugar and cream.
“Lucy, what’s going on here?” He gestured around the room.
I shook my head, confused. “What do you mean?”
Concern colored his expression. “Sweetheart, I know you didn’t keep much stuff at the house when you were younger. I didn’t think much of it after all you’d been through, but this is your home. I know I haven’t visited in a while, but why does it look like you just moved in?”
I looked down into my cup. Steam billowed from the dark fluid. Usually when Michael came to town, I met him at Liam’s or Aaron’s. I hadn’t really thought about him never having been in my apartment before. I felt a little ashamed of that fact.
I shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of my coffee. Good and strong. Just the way we both liked it. “I haven’t had time,” I fibbed.
He hmphed, not believing me for one second, and he was right not to.
“Really,” I continued with the lie. “This case I’m working on is huge. It has me going day and night.”
Michael took a drink of his coffee and I proceeded to explain to him everything Sarah and I had uncovered about Sutcliffe. He listened with rapt attention, only interjecting when he wanted clarification on something.
I became more excited as I spoke, rehashing all the details of the case, putting them together in a different order than I had before. Like when I was in school and struggled with an equation, talking it out with Michael put it into a different perspective and I found I could complete it with ease.
“That’s amazing, Lucy. I’m so proud of you.”
How my chest swelled at those five words. If nothing else, I wanted Michael to be proud of me, just as I had wanted George to be proud. It dawned on me that Michael never got to meet George. Thinking about it, I knew the two men would’ve hit it off. They were similar in a lot of ways. Both were dedicated, loving, compassionate men who believed in God, family, and country.
Michael circled his finger around the brim of the mug. “Are you working with the FBI?”
I shook my head. “Sarah hasn’t mentioned the FBI, and to be honest, until you said that, I really hadn’t thought about it.”
I hadn’t. Call me green, but this bastard led to the death of my partner, friend, and mentor. I could care less if the FBI, DEA, ATF or any other acronym wanted to get their hands on Sutcliffe. Even though George wasn’t technically killed by Sutcliffe, I felt like he was the reason for George’s death, and that was enough for me to want to take the rat bastard down.
“Sutcliffe is on the news all the time, sweetheart. You might want to talk to your partner about other agency involvement. And Liam might be able to help you with some intel.”
It was a nice suggestion, but there was no way I was asking my cousin for help. That’s all I needed — Sarah getting pissed because I brought in a Senator as an outside resource and it had us thrown from the case. Nope. I would trust my partner, even if my gut told me to question her quite frequently.
I stared down into the cup, unable to hold back my smile. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
The day passed by rather quickly as I shared with Michael everything that’d been going on in my life recently. I told him about George’s funeral, and how I’d been seeing Dr. Blackbird, and I even told him about Ian. He was intrigued to discover I was dating and wanted to
meet the man who could make me smile so big. The only person I didn’t mention was Jude. Not that Jude didn’t enter my mind. He did, but I couldn’t let Michael see the vulnerability in me again. I’d shown too much already. I needed to be strong. To keep the darkness at bay.
As I told him about my date scheduled for that evening, my cellphone rang. Sarah’s face flashed on the screen.
Great. So much for my lazy Saturday.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I have to take this.”
He waved me on, as he stood up and took both of our cups to the sink.
“Diamond,” I answered.
Michael began opening cabinets, looking at their vast emptiness. A picture of my life.
“Great. You’re awake. Meet me at Strawberry Fields.”
Michael disappeared down the hall. Shit! He was heading to my bedroom.
“Why?” I asked, standing up to follow Michael.
“Jane Asher is dead.”
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“What? How?”
“From the looks of things, she hung herself last night after lights out.”
I shook my head, frantic. “No. That’s not possible. When we left her yesterday…”
My arms and legs felt numb. Panic rose inside my chest. Darkness threatened to overcome me.
“I know. I don’t think she did this.”
I licked my lips, willing my body to move. “Okay. I’ll meet you there in thirty.”
The line went dead. I meandered down the hall to find Michael observing my bedroom.
I knew I should feel something. Anything. But at the moment, I felt empty. Jane didn’t deserve to die, by her hand or anyone else’s. I agreed with Sarah. Something wasn’t right. Jane pleaded with us to keep her safe. Sarah had cops stationed at Strawberry Fields to keep watch over her until we could get her moved to a more secure facility.
Someone had to have tipped Sutcliffe off that Jane was lucid and talking. It was the only explanation. She wanted to live. She said that many times during our chat with her.
She wanted to live.
And now she was gone.
“Michael,” I started as I entered my bedroom.
He looked up from his cellphone and nodded. “I heard. You have to go.”
“Yeah. I’m so sorry. You can stay as long as you’d like. I would even love for you to stay with me while you’re in town.”
Michael’s smile grew. “I’d like that, too, but what about your date tonight?”
Dammit! I’d forgotten about Ian.
“I’ll cancel it.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“But I want to spend time with you,” I whined.
“And you will, but you need to see your gentleman this evening. I could tell by the way you spoke of him, that you’ve missed him terribly.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, and I grinned, knowing he was right. “Okay, but I really want you to stay with me.”
Michael nodded. “I’ll have my driver pick up a few things and help me settle in. If at any time you need me to get out of the way, just tell me to leave.” He winked. “I’d hate to get in the way of a budding romance.”
I waved him off, laughing. “It’s nothing like that.”
Michael backed out of the room, granting me my space. “I’ll be the judge of that when I meet him tonight.”
Oh, shit! Ian was about to meet Michael. This didn’t bode well.
For me at least.
Parked in front of Strawberry Fields, I slipped out of the car, glancing up into the sky.
I really didn’t care much about the clouds that were beginning to accumulate up there. Rain would only make the humidity worse. No, the clouds were a distraction from the massive number of units surrounding the facility and the swarms of media being barricaded from entering.
Red and blue lights flicked in the midafternoon sunlight, casting strange shadows on the trees. I breathed in the salty air drifting in from the Atlantic Ocean as I made my way toward the hospital entrance.
I stopped the instant I saw two EMTs exiting the facility. My stomach churned at the sight of a gurney, topped with a black body bag, being pushed out of the hospital.
That poor woman.
Guilt settled in. Had she not talked to me the day before, she would probably still be alive.
I rubbed my hand over my mouth, taking in several deep breaths. I didn’t want to believe this was even possible, but the evidence was clear. Jane Asher was gone.
If there were a heaven, and I was pretty certain there wasn’t, but if there were, I hoped she found her brother waiting for her there. She deserved redemption. Most of all, she deserved peace.
“Officer Diamond!”
I turned in the direction of the voice, inwardly groaning as a young reporter came running up to me. It was the same reporter who tried to question me at George’s funeral. I rushed toward the police tape, hoping to make it inside the parameter before she could get to me. I was in no mood to deal with reporters today.
“Officer Diamond! I have some questions for you.”
I whipped around, coming nose-to-nose with the reporter. “What’s your name?” I demanded.
“Shelby. Shelby Drees.”
I nodded. “Ms. Drees. I’ve just arrived on the scene and have no information concerning the situation.”
“Yes, well…” She was unfazed by my statement. “Can you tell me if it’s Jane Asher’s body they’re bringing out?”
“Did you not hear me?”
The woman thrust her phone in my face and grinned. “I did. I also know you evade answering questions from the press. You have yet to respond to why you shot Neil Hoff. Care to do that now?”
I turned my back on Shelby and started toward the tapeline. “No comment.”
I made my way through the police tape and heard Shelby yelling behind me, “You can’t ignore me forever. You’ll eventually have to answer my questions.”
Like hell I would. People like her are why members of the press have bad names.
Frustrated, I gritted my teeth and moved toward the entrance, avoiding everyone as I went inside. After I checked in with the facility, I walked, unescorted to Jane’s room. Everything was chaos in the center. I didn’t envy anyone who worked there. Patients were being detained by orderlies and doctors, attempting to bring order to the madness.
“About time,” Sarah snapped, upon my joining her in Jane’s room. It was a private unit, which meant there were very few people who had access to it. Dr. Taylor stood by the bed, staring grimly as forensics worked diligently to collect evidence. His white hair was standing on end and his eyes narrowed toward the scene.
“Sorry. I got here as fast as I could.”
Sarah ignored my statement and turned back to Dr. Taylor. “So, you’re saying no one came in or out of here between ten P.M., when lights went out, and when you found her body?”
“That’s correct.” The older gentleman teetered from one side to the other. He seemed agitated and preoccupied.
“And you didn’t think to check on her when she didn’t come to breakfast?”
While listening to Sarah question the doctor, I began to investigate the room, being mindful to not disturb evidence. Jane’s bedsheet hung from the ceiling. Signs of distress indicated that someone used a pair of scissors or a knife to cut her down.
A chair sat to the side of the makeshift rope, knocked over to its side. I noticed slight scuff marks on the floor and motioned toward the forensic photographer to join me. “Did you notice these?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” the young woman said. “We’ll have to determine if they came from her shoes or the chair.”
“She was wearing shoes?”
The officer nodded. “She was fully dressed.”
I nodded and moved on to look further.
“She occasionally skipped breakfast,” Dr. Taylor informed Sarah, who became more incensed with each passing moment.
“I’m going to need to see you
r security tapes,” Sarah noted. “And all the logs of anyone entering and leaving the facility since yesterday.”
“I don’t know what you think you’ll find, Detective. Miss Asher was deeply upset when you left yesterday. I tried to calm her. I even prescribed her a sedative last night to help her sleep. I hate to say it, but this is exactly what it seems. A suicide.”
Sarah slapped her notebook shut. “We’ll let the forensics team conclude that.”
Sarah began to walk away, then stopped, turned on her heel, and faced the doctor. “One more question, Dr. Taylor.”
The old man sank down, his head dropping to his chin. “Yes?”
“How much was the grant you received from the Little Child Foundation?”
I was kneeling on the floor, looking at some scrapes on the wall near the window sill. Jane seemed to be attracted to the window; always staring at the outside world.
My head snapped up at the question.
“How do you know about that?” Dr. Taylor gasped.
The Little Child Foundation was a well-known nonprofit organization in the DC Metro area established by one of Stuart Sutcliffe’s corporations. It was designed to help foster kids over the age of five find a permanent residence and paid for the child’s expenditures until graduation. Kids like me would give just about anything to become a Little Child recipient and it was rare for them to fund anything that wasn’t foster child oriented.
“Answer the question,” I demanded.
“One million dollars to fund my research on foster children in the system and how it effects their integration into society. I just received the letter yesterday stating I was approved.”
Sarah nodded, noting it in her journal. “You realize that doesn’t look good for you, seeing you heard everything Jane told us yesterday.”
The old man sat down on the bed, his face ashen gray. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, Detective, but I assure you one does not have to deal with the other.”
Renegade Page 13
